


Ugly Butterfly Club

by eledae



Series: Hivesong [2]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Childhood Friends, First Love, M/M, Magic, Minor Jeon Soyeon, Minor Minnie Nicha Yontararak, Original Character(s), Pining, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:01:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 46,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26385295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eledae/pseuds/eledae
Summary: Sixteen year old Song Mingi is on the rise, Hivesong’s youngest ever court poet and altogether shiniest thing in the room.Too bad he’s also completely screwed; caught between two warring house-gods and being eaten alive by secrets he can’t share. Mingi's trying desperately to keep best friend Jeong Yunho away from the shitstorm his life is becoming, but this is Hivesong, and it has a way of seeking out the things you love best.
Relationships: Jeong Yunho & Song Mingi
Series: Hivesong [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1855714
Comments: 13
Kudos: 17





	1. Rise

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set five years before [Wrap around me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25603300). You can read the two stories in either order, although [Wrap around me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25603300) will tip you off about the basic shape of a couple of the events that happen here. Ugly Butterfly Club is the angst with a salty dash of pining to [Wrap around me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25603300)'s kinda slow burn happy ending. 
> 
> The teen rating is for the swearing and also because this story goes into some pretty dark places at times. There's violence and things get bloody, but all acts of violence take place offscreen. I’ll give more specific warnings at the start of relevant chapters. Please come talk to me on twt (@nelliedae) if you’d like to know more.
> 
> Happy thanks to [undeliveredtruth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/undeliveredtruth/pseuds/undeliveredtruth) and [yoongoogles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoongoogles/pseuds/yoongoogles) for worldbuilding and support and music and lovely distractions when the angst swamp grew too deep, plus the endless inspiration of their own fantastic writing <3 
> 
> The story’s complete, save for a little editing, and I’ll be posting a new chapter each weekend. Hope you enjoy it!

Truth to tell, Mingi hasn’t really been listening.

The council meeting’s been going on for four hours now, and all he cares about is getting enough bad behavior on record to write a kickass closing poem.

Last he was paying attention the councilors were talking trade routes, but he’s been too busy jotting down Councilor Lee Jitae’s latest piece of laughable bullshit to listen. He’s trying to catch the exact phrasing, because Jitae goes a particular shade of purple when Mingi repeats him word for word. He’s not as good a mimic as Yunho, but he’s good enough to make Jitae change colour.

He’s just about got it all down when he realises that the room’s fallen weirdly silent. He looks up, trying to spot what he’s missed, where the attention’s pointed. He’s one of five official court poets but he’s the one supposed to close today, so he can’t afford to miss anything. _Shitballs._

Everyone’s staring at King Jaehan, from the councilors to the few people watching today’s session from the gallery. Figures. Even though he’s a big guy, he’s got the kind of soft, gentlemanly voice that runs along just under Mingi’s earshot if he’s not paying close enough attention. He makes you lean in to listen, only to wish you hadn’t. Kind of like the gentle flick of a blade that you don’t realise has an edge until the blood wells up. 

So what’s he said, this time?

Mingi scans the faces of the three councilors for clues. Jitae’s gone purple already, oh, that’s no fun. It’s a complete clash with the fancy silver glamour on his hair. No style points for you today, sir.

Councilor Kang Yeji - the old General - well, she’s got a face like a stone lizard. She’s always kinda hard to read, likes to leave a nice fat patch of earth for the other two to dig their own graves before she commits herself.

Councilor Park Jonghyuk’s looking amused, but then that’s just how he is. The runesmith is the youngest of them, barely thirty, cynical as all hells, and everything still tickles his funnybone. He’s the first to speak up. 

“You’ve let the fourth chair on council sit empty for weeks, and now you’re planning to leave it empty for good?” 

It’s hard to tell if he really cares, but Mingi thinks maybe he’s a touch surprised, behind the smile.

The King’s voice is mild. Yeah, that’s always a warning sign. “All I said was that I’m not going to bring in the Head Shrinekeeper. It’s time for a change.”

Jeon Yeonhee’s the senior shrinekeeper, in charge of tending to Hivesong’s divine Swarm, the house-god of the court.

The King doesn’t think much of Yeonhee but it’s still a surprising move. Challenge her, and he’s challenging the Swarm; not subtly, either. Mingi kind of admires him, to be honest. It takes guts to go up against Hivesong. The house-god’s got eyes everywhere.

Yeonhee’s sitting rocked back in her chair, Swarm bees crawling all over her bare arms. Hard to tell where her tattoos end and the bees start, until they move. For now, she’s keeping her lip buttoned, which is smart. Mingi wishes he could be there later to hear the reaction at the Hives, but he’ll have to ask Minnie about it.

He wonders which shrinekeeper’s going to be the lucky fourth chair instead. How hilarious if it’s Minnie; she’d hate it like all hells and the councilors would eat her for breakfast. So yeah, maybe better not. She’s not cut out for this shit.

“Regardless of what you want, the fourth chair is always held by the Head Shrinekeeper.” The General doesn’t get on with Yeonhee either, but she’ll fight to the death for tradition.

“That’s exactly the sort of meaningless thinking I’m trying to move us away from.” Times like these, the King uses his height and the extra inches the throne gives him to lean over them like they’re bad children. “What, we do it because that’s the way it’s always done? That’s lunacy.”

“Change for the sake of change is lunacy, too. We have a hierarchy here that works. Disrupting that only weakens us.”

The King smiles thinly. “Fortunately for the sake of progress, I don’t share your fear of disruption. We need fresh ideas, now the borders are finally settling down. I think it’s time to listen to the voice of youth, for a change. I’m appointing court poet Song Mingi to the fourth chair.”

Mingi almost laughs. Almost. He’s good at schooling his face but not that good, not enough to keep his shit together in the face of… whatever in all hells this is. Is he serious?

The King’s looking at him with amusement as if he’s enjoying the expressions flickering over his face until he gets it under control. Mingi shuffles reactions like a deck of cards, settles on a bored expression. Steals it off Yeonhee. He figures it probably hides the whirlwind of disbelief, joy and just the tiniest hint of ball-shrinking terror he’s feeling right now. 

He lets himself sink back into a lounging slump in his chair, but his fingers are clenched around the remains of his torn notepaper under the table. His heart is beating so fast he feels like he’s going to throw up.

All three councilors are looking at him like he’s pissed in their water jug, even Jonghyuk, who he’d always thought found him entertaining. Looks like he’ll be the first reason they’ve ever found to unite on anything. It’s kinda funny, actually.

The King draws his attention back effortlessly. “What do you say, Mingi? Care to join our band of friends?”

Jonghyuk’s the first one to break. “No. Wait a moment. Your Majesty, my apologies. But no.” 

Oh, this should be good. 

For someone with such a quiet voice, King Jaehan has a way of tilting his head that makes him look like a bird of prey inches away from losing its shit. There’s control there, but underneath it’s all razor beak and talons about to drop on some poor fool from a great height. They’ve all seen it happen. There’s a reason the fourth chair is empty, after all. “No?” 

“I’ve been young myself, I know what it’s like. The very last thing we need right now is the voice of youth. Sorry, kid.” He’s grinning again, but not in a way that looks like he means it. Well screw you too, buddy.

The General’s more blunt. She’s still staring at him like he’s an infestation of some kind. Must be her worst nightmare; someone like him, the same age as her grandkids, on an equal footing with her. “You’d put this trained _monkey_ on the council? He’s a child, Jaehan. A rude, ignorant child who thinks he’s flavour of the month because he has been given a stage to mock his betters.”

Chief of his fan club, clearly. But she’s not wrong, except about any of these assholes being his betters.

“Your Majesty.” Mingi raises his hand like he’s asking permission to speak, hastily lowers it again. “You asked if I’d like to join the council. I say yes. Yes. I would. It would be an honour and a privilege to join Hivesong’s ruling elite.” He gives the other council members his blandest face. Feels like his eyes may be gleaming like lanterns right now. Fuck them all.

The King nods his approval, gaze drifting over his council with what looks like a final warning. “All I’m hearing is your kneejerk prejudice against our young poet here, and he’s given us nothing but his best so far. As you’ve pointed out, the seat has been vacant for a long time. Too long. We’ll hold his oath-giving in two days. That should give you time to get your portrait painted, Mingi.”

Wait till he tells Minnie. She’s a junior Shrinekeeper, but she’s also the one who paints the formal portraits of the council members. She’s in high demand, not just because she’s good, but because she’s the only one fast enough to get a portrait done before there’s a new councilor to paint. King Jaehan chews through his councilors pretty fast.

Shit, forget Minnie, wait till he tells _Yunho_. They were excited enough when Mingi made court poet at sixteen, youngest ever. Now he’s going to get to make laws and rule the fucking kingdom. They’ll give him his own rooms in the palace. Staff - does he get staff?

Plenty of time to find out.

The General’s voice breaks into his daydream, harsh as iron. “I demand a vote, as is also required by law in this case, unless you’d care to overturn that, too?”

Can they do that? From the looks of it, yeah they can. Assholes. He runs a quick count in his head and it’s not looking good. It’s an open vote though, so he gets to see who’s actually on his side.

The General sides with Jonghyuk; neither of them wants his trained monkey ass anywhere near the fourth chair. But Jitae, bless his purple face, hates Jonghyuk and the General just slightly more than he hates Mingi (gotta work on that, must be slipping). Besides, Jitae’s scared of the King and he hates the Shrinekeepers. He joins the King in voting for Mingi - sucker - and given the tie, it goes to Hivesong to cast the final vote.

Well, it was nice while it lasted. Screw the Swarm, seriously. He was going to have so much _fun_.

Shrinekeeper Yeonhee makes her way slowly forwards so that Hivesong can cast her vote. Mingi’s seen it more than once, but it never fails to make his skin crawl. It’s freaky as all hells. There’s something so wrong about seeing someone emptied out like that, being worn like an empty glove full of air.

Yeonhee stands in front of the throne, facing the gallery. Her shoulders drop, her breathing gets deeper and more regular as she drops into a light trance. She unfolds the Queen’s honey cell from a wrapper of waxed paper and swallows it. Her eyes fall shut and then flick open, glowing a soft gold. When she opens her mouth, a hot yellow mist of light comes from her, like she’s on fire inside. When she speaks, her voice is a nasal hiss. 

“Hivesong casts her vote for Song Mingi.”

A shot of disbelief and excitement jolts through him. He sits back up, delighted, then remembers he’s lounging. I’m cool. I’m okay. Lounging.

Youngest ever member of the council. Yes, Swarm, gotta love those unpredictable bastards! What the hells though, maybe they’ve got a problem with Yeonhee? He’ll have to ask Minnie. 

Oh gods, just imagining the look on Yunho’s face when he tells him... It makes a sweet warmth bubble up in his chest, almost enough to chase away the sting of stomach acid he’s always got churning away there. Yunho’s going to be so proud of him. He’s going to go this adorable shade of pink, Mingi knows the exact colour. Happy Yunho pink.

The glow fades from Yeonhee as she comes back from wherever she goes when the Queen kicks her out. He should probably go apologise to her later. It must feel like shit, spending your life hustling for a house-god who doesn’t even want you on the council.

King Jaehan watches her make her way back to her seat in the audience, before turning to Mingi. “Perhaps you’d like to close today’s meeting with your poem, Councilor-Elect.”

“We’re not finished. There are other items waiting on the agenda.” The General’s voice is like gravel. Yeah, she’s not happy. 

“I think we’ve wasted enough time today already. If you want that empty seat filled, I’ve got an oath-giving to plan. Call another session tomorrow, just the three of you. Mingi, lead us out.” His voice is still level but he’s not happy about being challenged. What he needs is some savagery to put him back in a good mood.

He’s trashed the poem he was going to write, and anyway, it’s old news now. He’s much better off the cuff. He improvises a poem about a baboon, a lizard and a wild dog who take a baby monkey as a pet and get to watch him pee all over their treasures and bite them and flash his ass at them. Everyone likes a good parable. He thinks he’s getting his message across; Song Mingi is on the rise. Watch your backs, friends.

Councilor Jitae; purple, check.

The General; harder to read, but looking like she’s still got that infestation, and realizing the fleas aren’t going away any time soon.

Councilor Jonghyuk; amused. Maybe even genuinely. He enjoys a good poem as much as the King, even when he’s a target. More importantly, he knows when he’s lost and when to back down. There’s a reason he’s lasted this long.

The meeting breaks up straight after while Mingi is still trying to get the shakes under control. The King pats his shoulder on the way past, clearly happy at the outcome. Makes him feel all warm and wanted. Nice someone has faith.

The other councilors leave together, no doubt to plot how to get rid of him legally. Assholes. He’s going to hang onto this ride as long as he can just to screw them up.

He makes himself catch up with Shrinekeeper Yeonhee before she leaves. He’s always been just the slightest bit scared of her, the stories Minnie tells. But she seems friendly enough up close. No sign of the freaky glowing stuff, so that’s good.

“I’m really sorry how that happened. I know that seat should have been yours, by rights.”

She raises her eyebrows. “The matter has been decided fairly enough by vote.” She sounds neutral. Scary. So much for his fake humility, she’s not buying it.

“Can I thank the bees? Is that okay?” He realises once the words are out of his mouth that it’s maybe kind of insensitive since they’d basically voted against her, but what the hells, he has to go through with it now. He bows his head to the bees running along her arms. Frankly, the Swarm scares him shitless, but you don’t mess with the house-god. 

“You can talk to them, she’ll hear you,” Yeonhee offers drily.

He doesn’t know which one to look at - the biggest one? The most golden one? - so he tries to eyeball them all.

“Thank you, Hivesong. I’ll try my best.”

Yeonhee smiles unnervingly. “It will all work out as it should, I’m sure. If Hivesong thinks it’s time for a change, I’ll accept her will.”

Okay, now he’s got chills again. Also? Religious folk are weird. He’d have been kicking something, probably the King. Not wise, but still. He’ll have to ask Minnie if Yeonhee changed her tune as soon as she was back at the Hives.

Soon there’s nobody left in the council room but the servants clearing up and the maggies on guard duty today. The maggies are the palace guard; formally, they're the Magpies, on account of their creepy bird masks and the way the vicious assholes travel in flocks, only nobody calls them that. Maybe 'maggies' is meant to sound friendlier, but it'll need more than a cutesy name given the shit they pull. 

Oh, he'd forgotten Crown Princess Soyeon, looks like she's hung around too, though he doubts it's to congratulate him. She’s tucked up on one of the wide window ledges, half hidden by the heavy blue curtains. She’s just small enough to fit in there neatly, without drawing attention to herself.

King Jaehan’s older daughter and heir is a touchy-tempered pain in the ass. She’s a poet too, or she used to be. Not so much since she started her military training. They ran in the same circles for a very short time, but nowadays he only really knows her through Minnie, her best friend.

“Good going, Councilor-Elect.” She’s packing away her pen and papers into a satchel.

“Thank you, Highness.” He takes his time strolling through the room, touching the backs of the seats. Running a hand along the council table. Mine. All mine. The smile that’s been threatening to explode all meeting is getting closer and closer to the surface.

“Just checking, though. You do know what he’s doing, don’t you, my father?”

“Elevating talent? Recognizing young genius at work? Saying thanks for a job well done?”

“Uhuh.” Her small pointy face looks deeply sceptical. She’s got a good line in jaded eyebrows, he needs to practice that. “No, but you know that little furry thing they use to train hunting dogs? Like a fake rabbit, dipped in blood? That’s you, now. You’re just out there to wave in front of the others so they’ve got something to chase.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, I’m sure that’s it.” He tries the eyebrows on, gives her back her own jaded expression.

“He just wants you to get under their skin so they’ll leave him alone and let him get away with his own shit.”

“Not sounding at all jealous there, Highness.”

“What, you think I wanted the council seat?” She swings around on the ledge and all of a sudden she’s irritated. “Like hells I did.”

“I think you wanted to be court poet. I think you’ve been pissed off at me ever since. And you can’t stand to see me having one more pat on the back.”

From your dad. Who thinks I’m the shit. And always looks more than mildly disappointed in you. Yeah, he’s being a bitch but she started it, trying to take the shine off his apple like that. Why can’t she just let him have this for one second? 

She jumps down off the ledge and he’s reminded again that she’s already had a buttload of military training. She’s tiny like a lapcat, but she moves like a predator. Apart from the size difference, she’s her father’s daughter. He keeps the table between them just in case. “For someone who’s supposed to be seeing everything, reporting on everything, you’re pretty blind. But sure, Mingi. Go on believing that.”

Looks like a hit to him. Nobody gets that angry when they feel good about themselves. 

“I’m not stupid,” he says, because he can be generous in a win. “I know I’m the novelty act, the court clown. But he’s right, the council needs shaking up! New thinking. Fresh blood. That’s what he likes about me.”

“He doesn’t like you. He doesn’t like anyone. He thinks you’re a joke. And he knows he’s bought your vote for the rest of eternity.”

“Hey, I’m not going to vote with him just because he appointed me. I’m going to call it like I see it.”

“And you’ll see it like he wants you to see it. Get used to it.”

He throws himself into the fourth chair, rocking back on it. Screw her, he knows he’s incorruptible, that’s what the King respects about him. Sure, sometimes silence makes sense, but when he has something to say he’s going to make sure it’s the truth. Not like he’s not familiar with being unpopular. “I'm planning to get used to this, anyway. I like the view from here.” He plants his boots up on the table, for good measure.

“Unbelievable.” She stalks towards the door. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you. I know him better than any of you.”

“And yet I’m the one he appointed.” A small flinch? A wee pause in the stalk out? Maybe. Gotta be careful with her, she wears knives.

It’s only when he’s alone in the council room that the doubts start to sink in. That she might be right. That he’s no more than some sort of joke appointment, just meant to irritate. He knows he’s annoying, he knows the king loves it when he riles the others, but there’s more to it, right? He slides his boots down off the table. There’s only one thing to do when the doubts start gnawing and the bad voices are too loud.

He needs to find Yunho.

Unless it’s raining, he’s always in one of two places about now. Mingi tours the kitchens and he’s not there, so he grabs supplies for both of them and heads out to the tree by the river. 

For the last few years, it’s been their place to meet up; far enough from the palace and from family to feel like nobody’s going to track them down, but not too far for Yunho to drag out the increasing amount of supplies as his runecrafting studies get harder. 

Along the road to the river the gardens get progressively wilder and less well-kept. A series of long, shallow terraces dotted with shaggy topiary give way to lawns where wildflowers are taking over from the original flower beds. He can hear a skylark overhead somewhere, singing a spiraling song into the blue sky. The fresh air plucks at him, easing away his tension. 

When he gets to the field by the river, the gate’s standing open; Yunho’s sign to let him know he’s already there. Down where the field slopes towards the river bank is the tree, their tree. It’s a large evergreen, scoured by the wind into a crooked, leaning shape, like someone who’s lost control of their skirts in a high wind.

Yunho’s sitting out in the middle of the long grass nearby with his portable desk set up, runecrafting gear assembled in front of him. His guitar’s lying next to him too, within easy reach. As he gets closer, Mingi sees his eyes gloss over silver with aura-sight. It’s directed at whatever it is he’s holding, some sort of flower bud tied to a long wire stem. There’s a twist of paper wrapped around the stem, covered with Yunho’s careful runes.

“Go sit by the tree, you’re all messy.” He waves his other hand in the air. Mingi grins at the thought of what his aura must look like right now. Forest fire, maybe? He takes his chaotic self off to sit under the tree.

It’s comfy down there, out of the wind. He tips his head back and rubs it in greeting against the bark, lifts one hand to pat the gnarled trunk. Yunho insists he read somewhere that the tree is one of Hivesong’s long-lost princes, so they’re careful to be friendly just in case. Apparently he got turned into a tree on his birthday of all the shitty luck, by a nyx, an illegal runeworker. He’s never met a nyx, but he’s heard the stories, enough to know he never wants to meet one.

He has no idea what Yunho’s trying to do, but the flower bud is twitching like a horse shivering at flies. One petal unfurls, followed by another, flicking open and folding back, colour deepening to a deep crimson. A third petal unfolds slowly... and the whole thing explodes in a shower of petals over Yunho’s hand. He’s left holding the stem with its neatly tied runecraft. 

Yunho throws it into the grass with a loud growl.

He looks kinda cute, sitting there grumpy in the scattered bed of petals, but Mingi knows better than to say anything right now. He fights the smile down, even though his news is burning like a hot coal in his chest. Gets busy making them some food instead.

Yunho picks up the guitar and starts to play something low and sweet, completely at odds with the mulish look on his face. The music is slow and calm, but he’s still pissed off at himself. You’d never know if you didn’t know him, just looks like he’s concentrating. As he picks his way through the song, his jaw gradually unclenches.

“So, are you going to tell me why your aura looks like somebody set you on fire?”

Bingo, forest fire. He can’t see auras, most people can’t, but he called it anyway. He can’t resist teasing it out a little, good friend that he is. “You really wanna hear? Are you sure you’re done with the petals of failure?”

“Petals of failure.” Yunho’s lips twitch, despite himself. He has the ability to stay annoyed for maybe five minutes at a time, no commitment. “Yeah, they can wait. I’ll get back to it after I eat something.” Mingi knows from past form that he’s fully capable of staying out here most of the night trying to get it right.

He plays the ending notes of the song with a flourish, puts the guitar aside and holds out a hand for food. It’s like Mingi can see him make a conscious decision; he’s not going to be annoyed anymore. It’s a neat trick, if you can manage it. 

“Hey, hang on, you’re finished early. What happened? Did the poem go okay?”

“They appointed the new council member. Kinda blew apart the meeting.”

“Wait, isn’t it the Shrinekeeper?” His voice is muffled around a mouthful, sauce already dripping down his shirt. What a mess.

“Nope.” He can’t stop grinning. Everything he held back in the council chambers, it’s bursting from him now.

“Mingi, I’ve just screwed up that runework six times in a row. I’ve got maybe one nerve left, and you’re stepping on it.”

“Sorry.” _Not sorry_ _._ “Jeong Yunho, you are looking at the newest member of Hivesong’s royal council.”

His reaction is everything Mingi could ever have wanted.

After he finishes choking on his mouthful of food, he dives over to the tree and wraps his arms around him, sauce all over him, laughing, incredulous, and yeah, pink. Happy Yunho pink. “They finally did something right! You’re not kidding me, right? This is real?”

“Really real.”

“You’re going to be amazing!”

“I am, aren’t I. Youngest council member ever.”

Yunho’s arms tighten around him one last time, and then he sits back. 

“Hells, you’re going to get so bored, you’ll have to go to all the meetings.”

“I go anyway, I’m court poet.”

“Yeah, but now you’ll have to pay attention. Make decisions.”

“I get my own rooms in the palace, though.” No more camping out on a cot in the Jeongs’ lounge. He’s been there since his parents went off to fight along the border and failed to come back, a couple of years ago now. Finally, time to stop taking up their space. It’s not like they have a lot of extra room. 

A tiny part of him feels weirdly excited at having a small, quiet space of his own after all this time. 

Yunho’s looking serious all of a sudden. He pulls back, and Mingi can almost feel the wind blowing through the gap between them. “Your own place? That’s great, but we’re going to miss you. My dad’s going to miss cooking for all of us.”

“He’s really not.” Mingi eats way too much, like a hollow pit. There’s always this air of despair when Yunho’s father fills his plate. 

“Okay, but I’ll miss you. It was different, having you there. We could talk anytime.” Their night conversations have become a habit, him wrapped up in a nest of blankets on the cot, Yunho perched in the doorway to his room, ready to retreat at any sign of sound from his parents’ room. Talking low so they didn’t wake up his little brother.

“You can come visit. It’ll be even better, because it’ll be like we have our own place to hang out.”

“We have a place. We’ve got the tree.”

“We’ll still have the tree. We can still come here. This is good, right? This is good news?” It’s just starting to piss him off, the alarm. Like his good news has to be someone else’s bad news.

“Yes! Of course! It’s so good. I’m so proud of you.” 

But now all the good news feels bad, and the voices are coming back again, louder. What’s he going to do by himself in his own rooms, without the family around him to share stuff with? And how has he fooled himself that he can really do okay at something as big as this?

“You don’t think… it’s like some sort of joke? That the King just wants me there, I don’t know, to piss people off?”

“What?” Yunho is looking at him sternly. 

“Soyeon said something.”

“That you’re a _joke_?”

“That King Jaehan just wants me there to annoy the others.”

“Well, you will.” Give him credit, he’s not just disagreeing, he’s giving it careful thought. “I think… well, maybe? It’s not impossible. You’d be the weapon of choice.”

“Thanks.” Suddenly his mood is turning in even further and he can feel that stomach acid boiling away again. 

“I’m not finished.” There’s a sharp _tok_! and a sudden pain in the side of his head - Yunho’s flicked him. Not hard, just getting him to shut up and listen. “It doesn’t even matter if that’s why, dumbass. Because you’re in now. They can’t get rid of you if they tried. You’re in amongst it. So just, fucking, I don’t know. Own them. Show them what you’ve got.”

“I think they already know.”

“Are you kidding? They have literally no idea what you’re capable of! But you know. And I know. And now you get to show them.”

Despite himself, he can feel the grin returning. “They have no idea, huh?”

“You’re going to be amazing.” Mingi has to look away from the brightness on his face. Sometimes he gets it stuck in his head that he’s fooling Yunho, along with the rest of them. 

“No, shut up, look at me.”

Mildly wary of another, harder flick he cuts his eyes sideways. Yunho’s beaming, still that stupidly cheerful rose pink. “Youngest council member ever. Write your name all over that shit. Make them remember you.”

_________________  
  


Minnie takes one look at the shirt he’s wearing for his portrait sitting and sends Yunho off to find something else. She’s got a voice like a little kid, but she can still make them jump to do what she wants. 

“Look for something plain, a light colour. Try and get something with a decent number of buttons!”

Mingi gives her his best pout. “It’s my favourite shirt! Come on, Minnie, this is my chance to make an impression for the ages.”

“You don’t want to leave that little to the imagination, believe me. Can’t you just pretend you’ve got some mystique? Honestly, what were you thinking?”

“That the shirt is hand painted? And looks incredibly good on me!”

“Even leaving aside the buttons, it would take me a month to get all that fiddly little detail down, and the way you operate, I just don’t think I have that long. I give you a couple of weeks at best.”

“I’m going to make you give me a groveling apology by the end of the year. Oh wait, is there a bet going? Can I bet on myself lasting the year?”

“Shush and stop moving your head around. I can still sketch that while we’re waiting for some clothes more fitting to your dignity. And stop grinning, honestly. Give me noble. Or at least, serious.”

He tries, he really tries. He settles on his best impression of the General, stick up her ass and all. Minnie watches him skeptically, charcoal poised over her paper.

“Hmm, that’s better. I suppose. I’ll do what I can, it’s just your face…”

“What’s wrong with my face, now?” He can’t help it, feels the need to strike a pose, brings back the pout, quirks an eyebrow. “I can’t make _that_ any plainer, don’t even ask me. You’re just going to have to deal with the beauty. Do your best.”

“Mouth closed. If you can manage it.”

Before any of the things running full-tilt through his busy brain burst out of his mouth - silence is so much _harder_ than expected and he’s still burning to know what the shrinekeepers are saying about being chucked off the council, by their own house-god no less - Yunho comes back with a selection of shirts and throws them in a pile next to Mingi. “Okay, we’ve got some safer options here.”

He doesn’t recognize any of them… or actually, no, he does. “Wait, these are your shirts?”

Yunho smirks. “Nothing fancy, with enough buttons to keep you covered? Yeah, your clothes don't work like that. I had to raid mine. My look is more ‘boyfriend’.”

“It surely is,” murmurs Minnie. She’s put her charcoal down and is toeing through the pile, being careful to keep her messy hands away. “That soft grey. That’s the one.”

Mingi heads behind the screen she’s set up to change. The hand-painted shirt with its intricate black patterns and splashes of blue, red and yellow drops in a regretful silken slither. Yunho’s shirt is so fucking plain it hurts. Doing up the top button hurts. _Grey_. He is so not grey. The only good thing about this is that Yunho’s shirt smells like him, a bit. Is it weird that it’s sort of comforting? It’s like wrapping himself in a soft blanket of calmness.

When he comes out, Yunho’s already cross-legged on the floor with a fresh flower bud on a wire next to him. He looks up at Mingi and his mouth flattens out, like he’s swallowing a laugh. He busies himself with opening the bottle of blood-ink. Even the tips of his ears are pink.

Mingi swings around to face Minnie and catches a similar look of amusement. 

She waves her hand at him. “No, it’s fine, you’re fine. It’s just going to take more than Yunho’s shirt to make the boyfriend style look believable on you.”

“Sounds like a challenge.” He takes a moment, arranges his expression into something wholesome. Maximum sweetness. Maybe he’s channeling Yunho but he’s not about to admit it, even if asked.

When he checks out Minnie, she’s looking thoughtful. “Interesting. That’s almost believable. It’s just something about the eyes. You can’t quite hide the weasel lurking inside. Just go back to how you were before. Noble face.”

He assumes the General’s lizard composure and tilts his head just so. He’s managed to turn himself around enough to be able to see Yunho working on his studies, out of the corner of his eye. He’s already starting to ink the first runes onto a strip of paper.

The other two work in contented silence for a while as the pressure to talk gradually becomes unbearable for him, like wine corked up for too long. He holds it inside as long as he can, but he’s got so many things to say and questions to ask, always. Plus, now that he has a captive audience with insider knowledge he can’t resist digging. “So, how’s the Princess taking my appointment?”

Minnie’s slow to answer, smudging at the lines of her drawing. “Soyeon? Why should she care either way?”

“I thought maybe she wished it was her?”

“Are you kidding? The last thing she needs is one more battleground to get dragged into fights with her father. She knows she’s well out of it. Shrinekeeper Yeonhee, on the other hand…”

She trails off, intent on something she’s sketching. 

Something about her tone makes Mingi uneasy. “She seemed pretty chill about it at the meeting.”

“That’s when you need to worry, with her. It’s the calm before the storm. Let’s just say that if I knew where bees’ ears were, I’d have been covering every last one. I learned a _lot_ of new words yesterday.” Considering Minnie speaks bits and pieces of four languages already - and has a surprisingly wide vocabulary of bad language that she mostly keeps hidden - this is pretty impressive.

“She was mad, huh?”

“She was not happy, no. She’s not angry at you - well, she is, but not just at you - she’s angry at the King for nominating you and letting it go to a vote in the first place.”

“She’s not mad at the Swarm?”

“Ugh, Mingi. You don’t get mad at the Swarm. Bad things happen.” 

He checks the room quickly. It’s almost like she expects the bees to come see who’s talking about them. No sign of the stripy little spies anywhere, though. He risks another question, because he’s burning to know. 

“Does she get why Hivesong voted against her, though? Like, is she doing something wrong?”

“She did say something about that, actually. I’m not sure if I should say… Hive business and all.”

It’s like a big black cross on a map, telling Mingi there’s something he shouldn’t know. He grins, then drops it quickly for the General’s iron stare so she can keep sketching. “Yeah, but Hivesong’s business is my business now, right? I need to know what’s happening, Minnie. To make those smart calls.”

“Hmmm, convincing.” 

He glances over and she’s still looking troubled. 

“Okay. She said, it wasn’t so much that Hivesong voted against her, as that they were voting _for_ you.”

“That’s great! That’s good, though, right? Hivesong thinks I can do a good job?”

“Hivesong wants you there. It’s not the same thing. Mingi, just…” her voice trails off. “Just, be careful. Having the attention of something like Hivesong? It’s not easy.”

Now he’s got fucking chills down his back again. It’s like everyone wants to turn the best thing that’s happened to him into a funeral. He wishes, painfully sharply, that his parents were still here. Their reaction would have been uncomplicated; radiant pride. Their weird, too wordy boy finally doing something right.

There’s a near soundless puff of noise and a quiet but heartfelt curse from Yunho. Another bud lies around him in colourful fragments. He fires the flower’s stem violently away from him like an arrow and throws himself down flat on his back. His voice trails up. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” 

Minnie sighs. “No, it’s okay, you know what? I think I’m done with these. I can use what I’ve got to make a start on the painting, then get you back another day to finish off. You want to take a look?”

He stretches his stiff neck and shoulders, feeling the uncomfortable pull of a shirt that’s way too buttoned up. He’s still feeling narky about Minnie’s warning, but he comes over to take a look at the sketches. Yunho’s getting up slowly from the bed of multi-coloured petals.

She's sketched several different versions of him; head and torso in some, and just his head alone in others. He opens his mouth to comment, closes it again.

It’s weird.

He reaches out to touch one of the portraits and Minnie slaps his hand away. “You’ll smudge it, fool.”

“Is that - do I look like that?”

She sighs. “Yes, Mingi, you’re a complete mess but you are also stupidly gorgeous. As you well know.”

Not that, he wants to say. For once he’s not even fishing for compliments. He looks…. serious. Not quite sad? But definitely not happy, either.

“I look like I can do this job.” He chews on his lip, wondering.

She laughs. “You’d better be more sure of that before tonight. No backing out after that.”

Yunho leans over him from behind, chin on his shoulder. “No backing out. Onward to fame and glory and the biggest oath-giving party ever!”

Minnie’s voice is dry. “Keep hold of that grey shirt, if you can bear to. I’ll need it when you come back.”

“It looks good on you, anyway,” says Yunho. “Weird, but good. Kinda like when you see a horse wearing a hat. You should definitely wear it to the oath-giving.”

No fucking chance. He has something spectacular planned and it is _not_ grey. Yunho knows exactly what he’s wearing; it’s been taking up space in their shared wardrobe for weeks. It was going to be his Embernight costume, but he’s repurposing it for the oath-giving. He catches Minnie’s eye.

“Wear something dignified!” She’s sounding so stern but she hasn’t got a hope in hell of him listening, not this time. Too bad, so sad. “Oh Mingi, it’s your oath-giving, you’re joining the council!”

Why yes. Why yes, he is. And that’s exactly why he needs to be memorable.


	2. Shine

But first, the bratty demon child in him wants to lull them all with something nice and safe for the oath-giving ceremony. 

Even the General won’t be able to bitch about what he’s wearing; a simply cut charcoal suit with a white shirt. No-glamour black hair and the lightest touch of cosmetics. His jewelry is simple too, just a couple of ear-cuffs and a silver ring that belonged to his father. He’s borrowed a court sword and knife from Yunho’s father, and the weight feels odd on his hip, like it’s pulling him off balance.

He’d thought about wearing Yunho’s shirt - just for luck, of course - but there’s a difference between lulling them all and putting them to sleep. _Grey._ All his glamours, all the best stuff, he’s saving for the party.

The oath-giving itself takes place in the council rooms, after hours. Unlike the last meeting, the gallery is packed with people who’ve come to watch. Maybe it’s the noise of the crowd and knowing they’re here for him - or for the party afterwards, be honest - but there’s something almost magical about the room he’s spent so many tedious ass hours in.

Stands of candles throw shadows across the high vaulted ceiling, candlelight making the dusty old velvet curtains glow a deep midnight blue. Hivesong’s bees are everywhere; gold, silver, amber, black, blood-red, crawling across the council table and circling the second throne on the dais, which is empty for now.

He can see the Jeongs in the audience; they’ve even let Yunho’s little brother stay up for this. He looks bored shitless already, poor kid. Yunho’s trying to keep him from kicking the backs of chairs by playing some sort of complicated hand game with him. 

When Yunho notices Mingi he bounces to his feet to clap and wolf whistle until his mother drags him, laughing, back down into his chair. Mingi pirouettes to show off the cut of his jacket and bows, low and fancy. There’s a clunk, audible even over the crowd, as his sword bangs against the table. Well, screw it. He’s got no idea how to wear the thing.

Minnie’s there too, with the rest of the shrinekeepers in her formal white robes. She’s looking at his sensible outfit with deep suspicion; he just smiles and indicates the buttons all correctly buttoned up, before very discreetly flipping her a rude gesture she taught him once when he was pestering her about her mother tongue. She mouths ‘weasel’ at him and turns her back before he gets the chance to reply.

King Jaehan is seated on the dais at the head of the council table. Out of pure habit, Mingi tries to get a read on his mood. All he sees is a calm, almost sleepy contentment; could even be genuine, no way of knowing for now. He’s all in black, glamour streaking his dark hair with gold to match the thick chains around his neck and the heavy jeweled rings he wears.

He smiles down at Mingi as he reaches the foot of the dais. Mingi responds with his deepest bow, one hand on the sword to keep it in place. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Ready, Majesty.” And he’s so damn ready. He feels like there’s fire running through his veins tonight. Can’t stop smiling, even if he tries. 

“That’s my boy. Let loose the forces of disruption.”

“Can I consider that a royal command?”

“Mingi, you’re there to challenge the council as much as you think is needed.”

Mingi shoots him a grin.“Just not you, right, Majesty?”

“Oh, no, by all means, give it a shot. But you’re a smart boy. I don’t think you’ll find it necessary to try more than once.” He’s still got that sleepy-eyed calm, but the bird of prey is there too, not far underneath.

The drone of the Hive bees gets louder as Yeonhee climbs the dais to take her seat on the empty throne next to the King. Only it’s not really Yeonhee anymore, she’s long gone. He can see it in the stiff-legged way she walks, even before she turns her empty, golden eyes on him.

Once she’s in place, the General calls for quiet and the oath-giving ceremony begins. 

To Mingi’s relief he remembers the oath, even King Jaehan’s near endless lineage and the tongue twister name of the house-god in her own ancient language. He’d been up all night memorizing it, with Yunho playing the King and Hivesong in between his runecrafting exercises.

Kneeling in front of Yeonhee so that Hivesong can accept his allegiance, Mingi feels himself start to shake. He smooths his hands down his legs to try and control it - could be excitement, nerves, fear, he has no idea anymore. He has to force himself to lower his head for her blessing though. He doesn’t feel safe taking his eyes off her, let alone baring his neck. 

_Hivesong wants you there._

Her hand presses briefly against his scalp, cold as ice, and it’s finally over. He’s done. It’s party time.

  
  
  


He's not a complete idiot. He shows the King what he’s planning on wearing to the party first, in one of the antechambers to the ballroom that they’re using for tonight’s celebration. He hopes he’s judged it right - flashy and ridiculous, in your face ridiculous, sure - but also rising above that, something so trashy that it’s art? It could go either way. He could have overreached here.

The King’s face is serene, giving nothing away.

“Okay, Councilor Song, give me a twirl. Let me see how this works.”

He turns slowly, arms raised, letting the clean, sharp lines of the suit do the talking. It’s the dark rich red of old blood, to match his crimson hair, slicked back off his forehead. His half-mask is black, set with glittering jet. The glamour on the coat shifts when he does, sending out tiny prismatic lights that twinkle and shine. Under the sparkling coat, he’s wearing a silk shirt and a velvet vest with a thick gold chain around his neck. 

He finds all the reassurance he needs in the King’s reaction. It’s such a small smile, little more than a flicker of amusement, but it’s all the approval he needs. And Soyeon said he didn’t like anyone; well, maybe that’s just her.

“There are no half measures, with you. When you’re in, you’re all in. It’s really something.” The King reaches into a pocket, pulls out a soft velvet pouch, tosses it to Mingi. “Welcome to the table.”

Inside the pouch is a signet ring, soft red-gold and stamped with the Hivesong honeycomb pattern. There’s a horse cut from jet inlaid across the honeycomb; the house-god of the King, a black mare. He tries it on and it fits perfectly. 

In the ballroom, the musicians are setting up for the night and the buffet tables are already crowded with people helping themselves to the food laid out. When he walks in there’s scattered applause, a couple of whistles and yeah, even some surprised and admiring laughter at the absolute kickassery of his suit. It warms him up better than the velvet and silk, which is going to get pretty hot when he’s dancing, but the hells with it.

Feels like he’s about to catch fire, his feeling of fortune on the rise is so fierce. His parents should have seen this. They should have been here. He looks around for Yunho, always tall enough to find in a crowd, but he’s not here yet. He does manage to catch the General’s eye, though. She may not react to the suit, but she hustles her grandkids away like he’s going to infect them with his moral defects. It fills him with a crazy kind of delight. 

Yeah, maybe he needs to take the edge off his wild mood before he talks to anyone. 

He swings by the buffet tables and fetches a long glass of something pale, fizzy and hopefully very alcoholic. He finds a place to hang out while he watches the crowd, under the spreading leaves of a potted plant with immense scarlet blossoms. 

“Please tell me you’re not vain enough to be standing here because your suit matches the flowers.” Councilor Park Jonghyuk comes to lean alongside him, surveying the crowd with an air of mild indulgence. His mask is the pointed muzzle of a wild dog, shaped out of gilded leather. 

“Hey, my suit doesn’t match the flowers, the flowers match _me._ I own this look.” Mingi raises his glass to clink against Jonghyuk’s, but the councilor takes the glass off him and pours it out into the plant pot with one swift move.

“What the hells?” 

He’s expecting the inevitable lecture about being underaged and needing to wait for his turn to get shitfaced like his elders and betters.

“First lesson, kid. Most important one, and this will keep you alive to piss everyone off another day. No alcohol.” He’s got a glass of what looks like mead in his hand. Mingi stares at it pointedly. “No, you can carry alcohol. You can smell of alcohol, that’ll actually come in handy sometimes, if you’re smart. But you don’t drink more than a mouthful.”

“You gonna tell me why, oh wise council elder?”

“Have you seen what happens to people who lose focus around here? I can even give you an object lesson.” 

He nods his head across the room, to where Councillor Lee Jitae is standing with a group of his wealthy cronies. He’s got a bottle in his hand, something expensive, and he’s pouring a round of shots for them all. His face is already a shiny shade of magenta and he’s talking too loudly. 

“You watch how many times he’s going to fuck up in front of Jaehan by the end of the night, without even trying.”

“Yeah, that’s because he’s an idiot, not because he’s drinking.”

“But watch the magic that unfolds when you bring those two truths together. Let’s just say, old Jitae isn’t going to last much longer on the council.”

“Sounds like the gift of prophecy.”

“It’s the gift of a working brain. You’ve got one too, kid, so don’t make the mistake of fogging it up with wine or other shit. Stay sharp.”

Mingi tips the last drops of the wine out of his glass into his mouth. Guess he’s not going to be taking the edge off that way, tonight. “Next you’ll be telling me that this council business isn’t as fun as it looks from the outside.”

“On the contrary, Councilor. Let me give you a heads up on the fun part. What’s going to happen tonight is, the others are going to make their plays. If they have to put up with you, they’re at least gonna want you on their side. So you get to see how much you can screw them for. Just don’t make any promises.”

“What about you? What are you offering?”

Jonghyuk laughs. “Prime grade advice, my friend. Brought to you straight from the mouth of a long term survivor of this fine establishment. What, you think this is free? I expect a little back up now and then.”

“Yeah, then maybe you shouldn’t have voted against me.” Mingi takes a couple of sticks of fried prawns from a passing servant. At least he’s still allowed to eat, right?

“You’re still sore about that? Nothing personal, kid. It’s just politics. I mean, do you really even want to be here?”

“What? Yes!” He wants it more than he’s ever wanted anything except for court poet, and now he’s got both, if he can just figure out how to juggle them. “I’ve been watching you all for months now. I can do this.” I can _own_ it.

“Sure you can.” Jonghyuk turns, with a genuine smile now, raising his glass of mead. “Hey, star pupil!” It’s Yunho. Finally. Jonghyuk tips his glass against Yunho’s and raises it to drink. He winks sidelong at Mingi, who sees that he takes the smallest of sips. 

“Hey, Master Park.” Yunho’s got advanced classes with the runesmith, the complete suck-up. The star pupil’s still in the same simple black suit and white shirt he wore to the confirmation, but now his hair’s a soft sunset shade of orange. His mask is a thin curve of beaten metal that slides through orange to swirling red-gold as the light hits it. He’s had Mingi’s crimson suit in the wardrobe for weeks; he knew just what to match with. Best friend material, right there.

Yunho grabs Mingi’s arm. “I’m just going to steal the youngest ever council member for a dance, if that’s okay?”

“Be my guest.” Jonghyuk raises his glass in salute. “We’re done here. For now.”

The quintet are already tuning up by the dance floor; two fiddlers, a guitarist, a drummer and a singer. They’re going to be loud, he can already tell, and he lets Yunho drag him closer until he’s wrapped around with the noise they’re making while they get ready. The spiralling rhythms and sounds build inside him like a kind of pressure until it’s almost painful. 

Yunho pulls away to wave a hand at himself head to toe, posing for approval with a self-conscious smile. “So did I land it right this time? Not going to embarrass you, not going to overshadow you? It’s a fine line, I never know.”

Mingi laughs and shakes his head. “No, you definitely screwed up. You look too good, go home and change, asshole.”

Yunho has to lean close and yell to be heard over the musicians. “You, though. This is a look. I’m guessing, vampire prince meets slave to council paperwork.”

“Fuck off. I am ruling this room.”

“You’re blinding this room with glittery bullshit, it’s kinda the same?”

“Less talking. You’re a better friend when you’re dancing.”

The musicians are about to start up with something, anyway. First they’ll have the more formal pair dances so that the old timers can have their fun, before the night disintegrates into noise and chaos later on when everyone’s drunk. Well, everyone except him and Jonghyuk, apparently.

When the music starts, he takes up his position and bows to Yunho. Mingi’s sol, because he always is when they dance together. Most people favour one role or the other - sol or luna - when it comes to pairs. Mingi almost always dances the more dramatic, high energy sol, but for reasons known only to his thorough-ass self, Yunho always learns both roles and can execute either of them with ease. If it was Mingi he’d be doing it to show off, but with Yunho it just seems to be for the joy of it, which makes no sense.

The musicians are going to be great, he can already tell. Their fire matches his tonight, their chaotic energy, even in the first bars of a traditional pair dance. The music fills the room, fills him up with bright noise until he stops thinking and just lets the music catch him and throw him around. 

Watching Yunho dance luna in the middle of the storm of noise makes him stupidly happy. It’s like luna was made for him, all understated precision and control. He’s fluid and sharp at the same time, moving with the same effortless focus he brings to his runecraft. Screw the warnings, and screw the bees. This right here is the start of the amazing life he’s always wanted so bad.

It doesn’t even ruin his mood when he sees Jitae and his wife join the dance, Jitae dancing luna with no grace whatsoever, tipsy enough now that his movements are sloppy with an overdone drunken care. 

He looks away from the sight of Jitae getting stuck halfway under his wife’s raised arm as he tries to spin off in the wrong direction, just as Yunho turns back towards him, hand circling smoothly beneath Mingi’s hand. The contrast is… well, it’s not kind to Jitae. 

For all his grace and timing though, Yunho’s got a distant, dreamy look on his face that Mingi knows well. He’s enjoying the music, but he’s somewhere else in his head.

“Hey,” he says, taking advantage of the fancy footwork to toe Yunho with his boot in passing. “This is my night, dumbass. Eyes on me.”

“Hey yourself.” Yunho comes back from wherever he was with a slow blink. “It’s your own fault. I can’t look at you too long, your sparkles give me a headache.”

“Don’t look at my coat, look at my face. My face doesn’t give you a headache.”

“Not a headache, but definitely low level nausea.”

“Ah, you love this face, admit it. You’re going to ask Minnie for an extra copy of my portrait so you can hang it on your wall.”

Yunho’s got an arm around his waist and his fingers burrow without warning into a ticklish spot. Mingi ducks away, giggling, trying to make it look like part of the dance and failing sadly by looks on the faces of the couple next to them.

Yunho smirks at Mingi before twirling him back into step with the dance. “Sorry I was zoned out before. It was just Master Park, he’s got me working on something new. It’s going to be amazing.”

“Yeah? Like what?” If they’re not going to talk about him, which he’s _always_ up for, his next favourite topic is anything that makes Yunho light up like this. The happiness in his eyes makes Mingi smile. He can’t help it. It’s like a law of nature, the same way you can catch a yawn; the contagious enthusiasm of Jeong Yunho.

“Ghosts! He’s finally got us working with ghosts.”

“How is that amazing? That shit’s dangerous.”

“We’re not working with the dangerous ones, not yet anyway. He’s just got us trying out basic wards on some of the nicer ones. I wouldn’t mind, though, going up against something scarier. Could be fun.”

They’re circling each other now, palms pressed lightly together. The music rises and falls around them, slower and calmer now, like ripples on a river.

“Your definition of fun is totally screwed up, you know that?”

“Says the guy who’s about to become a councilor.”

“Yeah, but that’s not for fun. That’s…” Actually, what is that? Why is he doing this, again?

“You wanna shine,” offers Yunho. “Not just the coat. You.”

“Basically, I’m an egomaniac?”

“‘This is my night, dumbass. Eyes on me.'” 

Yunho’s eyebrows lift playfully and his mimicry is _painfully_ good. Mingi feels a momentary hot sting of shame, but Yunho’s fingers close tighter on his as the dance ends, and all he can see is the bright affection in his eyes. Seems like giving shit to Mingi is on the list of things that light him up, right alongside messing around with ghosts.

What the fuck, he’ll take it. Not like it’s not true. He bows as the music comes to a close, spins Yunho under his arm one last time.

“Better go dance with my adoring public, then, before the queues get too rowdy.”

  
  


Later, when the musicians take a break he stops for something cold to drink, fetching Yunho from where he’s dancing sol with one of his classmates. Mingi’s taken turns dancing with well-wishers and admirers for what feels like hours, and he’s sweaty and so damn itchy under the vest and shirt. He hovers over the iced wine but Jonghyuk’s warning - and Jitae’s dancing - is still fresh in his mind. Water. Better get used to it. Minnie joins them at the tables, bouncing over with Soyeon in tow.

Minnie’s changed out of her shrinekeeper whites for bold red and white checker patterns. Her hair’s the colour of strawberry candy, a cute berry pink. Soyeon’s wearing all the colours of the rainbow with a sparkling glamour to match his own, which is just a weird choice given the miserable way she’s been acting lately. Maybe she’s trying to cheer herself up. It seems to be working, by the way she’s smiling up at Minnie. When she sees him, though, it’s straight back to the thundercloud. 

What the hells have you got against me, he wants to ask, just for a second. But he’s pretty sure he knows. She would have been an amazing court poet, and he has no idea why he got in and she didn’t. But he’s not going to let her ruin his good night, his amazing night. 

He smiles at her, faking friendly for everyone’s sake, and she just breathes out a frustrated sigh. “I’m going to get something to eat.” Her boot heels ring on the dance floor as she makes her way through the crowd, people parting for her through sheer force of will. Minnie shrugs at Mingi and takes a big gulp of her wine and ice. 

“I just had to rescue her from a conversation with her father.”

“You know, maybe if she was a nicer person, he’d have made her a court poet.”

“If she was a nicer person, he’d gut her like a fish and start training up her little sister instead.” Minnie’s voice is flat.

“Hey, heads up.” Yunho taps his arm and points to an agitated argument over by the tables of drinks. “Someone’s hitting the wall early. I think maybe he got a head start on the party.”

Mingi can hear Jitae’s voice now, slurred and angry, raised just high enough to crest over the crowd. Across the room, he can see the King watching Jitae with faint interest. Somewhere Jonghyuk must be pissing himself with laughter. 

Minnie crunches a mouthful of her drink, watching the action with big eyes. “Ouch. Poor Yejun.”

“Who?”

“Jitae’s son. The youngest one. He’s getting sent off to school soon. Bet he wishes he was already there.”

Mingi can see him now, standing in front of Jitae. He looks about their age, short and round-featured, face flushed and completely silent as his father rips into him. Yunho stirs as if he wants to go do something, intervene, and Minnie puts her hand on his arm. 

“He won’t thank you, not in a crowd. I’ve got classes with him. He doesn’t like anyone helping.”

“So we just ignore it?” Even under the mask he looks troubled. He’s like a guard dog, Yunho, looking out for everyone, even strangers. Can’t see a fight without wading in to try and help. It’s kinda sweet, but it just means Mingi has to worry about wading in too, to protect Yunho from the consequences of being too soft-hearted.

Whenever Mingi hears a fight, all he hears is food for poems. They’re just not quite close enough for Mingi to hear any of the spicy details. “What’s that about, anyway?”

“You can ask him yourself,” says Minnie. He’s coming over.”

They all turn away swiftly, trying to look like they weren’t watching, staring at each other helplessly.

“Minnie.” Yejun’s voice is soft and polite, but his face still carries the stormy echoes of the argument. 

“Yejun,” says Minnie, kissing his cheek. “This is Mingi, Hivesong’s newest and least likely council member.”

“I know who he is.” He glances at Mingi and his eyes do a slow up and down of the hair, the suit. He almost manages to hide it, but Mingi can feel the contempt radiating off him. Yeah, he’s Jitae’s kid after all. It’s like a shitty flashback to years of being the soldiers’ kid in the status-conscious Lakeside. Tonight, of all nights, his amazing night, he’s over it. 

Minnie’s trying her best, though. “So you’re off soon, right? To Rope-of-Stars, to finish off your final studies?”

“Next week. I wish it was tomorrow.” He sends such a look of murderous hatred his father’s way, but Jitae’s already laughing it up with his cronies again. “So, I have…. a favour to ask.” It’s like the words are being dragged out of him.

“Oh my, Yejun, of course! Just say the word! Anything at all.”

“Not you.” Like a mouthful of grit. “Him. Mingi.”

“Oh, nice.” Mingi smiles, full of teeth. “A favour?” Something about the way Yejun looks at him wipes out any pity he feels, having Jitae for a dad. To think Yunho was about to dive into battle for this idiot.

“I have to leave my horse behind when I go. Revenant. That’s his name. He’s a thoroughbred and he’s going to need exercising. I know you don’t have a mount of your own. I wondered if you’d like the use of him while I’m gone. We can keep paying the stabling costs. I just need someone to ride him.”

The King is a keen horseman, and he often rides out with a select group of courtiers, including the other poets. Keeping a horse has always been way beyond Mingi’s pockets, even with what’s left of the money from his parents. Besides, he knows how to ride about as well as he knows how to wear a court sword; two of the skills kids like Yejun grew up learning from childhood, easy as breathing.

He doesn’t even consider it for a second.

“That’s very generous of you, Yejun, especially seeing as you didn’t know me until five minutes ago. What a sweetheart. Want to tell me why?”

Yejun casts furiously miserable eyes at him. What, he’s just supposed to play this game? With Jitae’s angry sock puppet son, who looks at him like he’s not worth scraping off his shoe? Can’t even make the effort to bribe him properly? Yeah, nope.

“Perhaps you saw me across the room, and you thought, there’s someone I’d kill to be friends with. Now what can I tempt him with?”

“Just take the offer.” It’s a growl ripe with violence.

“Or what, Yejun? What’s your dad going to do if I don’t accept your kind bribe?”

“Fuck you, Song Mingi. Tell him I tried but you’re just too stupid.” He stalks off in the opposite direction, away from his father, away from the party. Probably gone to go console himself with his horse. _Revenant._ What an asshole.

He turns to Minnie, expecting her to be laughing, but she’s watching Yejun go with a troubled expression. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“Yeah, I think I did.” Although now that he’s gone, Mingi’s having trouble remembering where all the anger came from. He can feel Yunho’s eyes on him and it makes him itchy, uncomfortable.

“He used to be a nice boy, once,” Minnie says. “He’s actually a very talented painter.”

“Come dance with me?” Yunho’s holding out a hand - to Minnie, not to him, he realises belatedly. He’s giving Mingi a look that either says _I’m giving you some space to get your shit together,_ or maybe _I’m not coming back till you’re a decent human being again_. So hard to tell, with the mask on. Except that it’s Yunho, so he probably wants them all to feel better; Minnie, Mingi, even poor little rich kid Yejun. He’s just one more charity case on the list.

Minnie hands Mingi her drink and follows Yunho off to the dance floor. What’s left of the drink smells like the perfect mix of sour and sweet, with an alcoholic bite to it. What the hells, it’s mostly ice. He takes a quick glance around the room for Jonghyuk and tips back the last of it. 

“Well, that was quick.” It’s Soyeon, back from the buffet tables with a plate of fruit dipped in chocolate. “Normally it takes you a little longer to chase everyone away.”

“What can I say? Tonight, I’m overachieving.” He snags a candied orange slice off the plate.

She takes his hand and he startles, but she’s just inspecting the new signet ring. “Shit, he really isn’t even bothering to hide it anymore.”

“Hide what?” He shakes her off and pops the orange in his mouth.

“Our house-god, riding right over the Swarm? Dropping the Shrinekeeper from the council? My father’s using you to send a message. He’s declaring war.”

“On Hivesong? But she voted for me. She wants me on the council, Minnie said so.”

“She’s got something up her sleeve, for sure.”

“Well that’s fucking cheerful. Nice to see you too.”

“Dance with me.” It’s not a question. She never bothers with manners, when it’s him. Minnie insists she’s got a softer side, but he’s never seen it. Still, he wants to dance, needs to dance in fact, and she’s the only one asking.

“We do this on one condition,” he says. “You can’t warn me about anything or anyone. I’m serious, I’m here for a good time tonight and you’ll be wrecking the last of my happy.”

Of course, the musicians have to start playing something slower and sweeter when he takes her hand to find their starting positions in the line of dancers. She bows to him, making even that simple act deeply ironic. How can she dominate him when she’s bowing? It’s crazy. She’s the size of a peanut.

He suspects that despite the matching glamours, they look like an odd couple. Apart from the fact that he’s about twenty feet taller than she is, she just doesn’t look very happy to be here with him. 

That’s why it blows him away when the first thing out of her mouth is a compliment.

“Your poem, your Waterfair sonnet? It was better than I expected. It was obvious enough, but it worked. People seemed to like it.”

She’s all luna, all poise and control. There’s never a moment when she’s lost, when she doesn’t know what she’s doing. But right now, she sounds almost hesitant. She’s kinda rusty on saying nice stuff, maybe. 

“Tell me more,” he says, just to tease.

Soyeon scowls. “You know you’re a good poet. No, okay, let's be honest. If you’re not great now, you will be.”

“Better than you?” While she’s admitting to miracles.

“In your dreams, dumbass.” He wonders if she fights the same way she dances; lithe, sinuous, but there’s an energy there he doesn’t get to see often. Like she’s almost thinking about enjoying herself, on the verge of letting go with the music. The luna control is still there though, always. “Have to say, you would have been better off just sticking with poetry. Turning down the council.”

“Uh uh,” he says. Eyes half closed on the music, just this side of letting go himself. “No warnings.”

He watches her watch the room, discarding conversations based on warning after warning. Her eyes stick on Minnie, dancing with Yunho. They look good together, like they’re reflecting back all the happiness in the room. Minnie’s said something that makes Yunho laugh and his face has turned the same pink as her hair. Happy Yunho pink. 

Soyeon turns under his arm, turns back in again. “Okay, no warning, but how about a question?”

Mingi hums, a little distracted. The dance turns him away to face the other dancers, and he finds himself watching them again.

“You can’t tell her I said anything, but… if Minnie asks Yunho out, will he say yes?”

He swings back to her. “What?”

“She’s thinking about it.”

“Well tell her to stop!”

Soyeon gives him a level look. “You think he’d say yes.”

Does he? He has no idea, in fact. Doesn’t know if Yunho likes girls like that, let alone Minnie. They stay up all night talking, but not about shit like that. Only the important stuff. “Doubt it. He’s all about the craft. You know what he’s like, he’s on a mission to conquer runes and I don’t think she’s got a chance.”

It’s true, as far as it goes. Yunho’s way too deep into his studies to even look around him, most days. Mingi can’t imagine him wanting to take the time out to mess around with romantic stuff. Mind you, he’s done some experimenting that he’s never told Yunho about, either. Not much more than kissing, nothing worth talking about, but still… what if he’s not the only one with secrets?

He squints accusingly at Soyeon. “I always thought she’d ask you out first, anyway.” The way Minnie’s always defending her, he’s wondered for a while if she’s sweet on the grumpy peanut.

“She did.” For a bare moment, she looks stricken. “I was the one who suggested Yunho instead. He seems nice.”

“He’s not nice at all, he’s a whole stubborn grey-shirt-wearing, rune-obsessed dumbass.” 

_He’s also not a party treat to be handed over like a prize at the end of the night, Your Highness._

He’s got no idea why the thought pisses him off so much, but he can feel the tension winding up inside him like a spring. Minnie’s great. His two friends making each other happy is great. He’s a hypocrite if he doesn’t want Yunho to get the same chances he’s had to try stuff out, if he’s curious. 

So maybe he’s a hypocrite.

“Honestly, he’ll break her heart and he won’t even notice. He won’t mean to, he’s just…” It’s the way he looks at you, with all his attention, like you’re the only one in the room. The way he makes you feel like you’re worth something, even on the days you feel like shit. It’s the way he _is._ He’s just looking out for Minnie and her big, stupidly soft heart. “He’s an idiot.” 

Soyeon’s looking at him skeptically, and he feels himself going red. He’s the worst friend in the world. “Why’d you turn her down in the first place, anyway? Minnie’s amazing.”

“This isn’t a heart-to-heart, asshole. We’re not friends, I’m not sharing all my girlish hopes and dreams with you so you can go make a poem about it.”

“Yeah, but it would be a fantastic poem! Come on, I’ll immortalize you. Gonna be a great poet - your words.”

Her lips twitch, and for a moment he thinks he’s found a way past her angry little peanut shell. She bows again as the music comes to a close. Looks up at him, actually looking less angry than he’s ever seen her. She almost looks sad. “You should have stuck with the poetry.”

“No warnings,” he says, but she’s already leaving the dance floor. 

Okay, now he’s too jittery to go back and talk to them with his happy face on. A mix of feelings knot and coil in his stomach; he can’t name them all, but they’re not the fun ones, he figures that much. He dances with a string of people he barely knows, trying to chase the bad mood away. Ends up dancing luna (badly) with the General’s grandson, Chan. He’s good company, a decent poet, and he seems to know how to dance with a dress sword on, so that’s something he can learn from.

“Hey, where’s your grandma?” he asks over the music. 

“Yeah, I don’t think you should ask her to dance, Mingi. This may surprise you, but she’s not your biggest fan.” 

“She’s the only one who hasn’t tried to bribe me yet. Unless you’re the bribe? Did she send you to dance with me?”

Chan laughs like he’s being tickled, a sound of pure delight. “Mate, she’s not about to offer you her first born grandson! Seriously, don’t expect bribes anytime soon. The nicest you’re gonna get from her is basically her agreeing not to skewer you, your first day on the job. But she’s over there, if you wanna take a shot.”

He can see her now, as far from the dance floor as she can get, having some sort of grownup conversation with fellow grownups. He hands Chan back to his tipsy friends and makes his way through the crowd. He’s not in the best mood to do this, maybe feeling a little reckless in fact, but fuck it. 

The conversation stills when he gets near. They’ve got their _trained monkey_ looks turned on him and for a moment he’s tempted to act up to it, but instead he offers the General his best attempt at Chan’s elegant bow. Even gets the sword right, too. Screw you all, thanks for playing.

She inclines her head a fraction and rises from her chair. “Excuse me, friends. Councilor, would you mind escorting me to the drinks table.” The General holds out an arm and he takes it.

She’s in her dress uniform, a blue so dark it’s almost black. Her court sword and knife look battered and functional, rather than decorative. The only piece of ornamentation she’s wearing is a signet ring like his, but there’s no black horse on hers. It’s just the Hivesong honeycomb. 

“I wish your parents were still here to see this.”

He waits for the sting in the tail _\- so they could see what a screw-up you’ve become, despite everything they gave up for you_ \- but the lizard face is slightly creased and he realises with a start that it’s a smile. It’s faint, but yeah. She’s smiling at him.

He swallows. “Yeah, me too.”

“They were good people.”

 _Who you got killed._ He can’t help it. First thing he thinks every time he sees her. She’s the one who gave the orders that sent them into the Hollows.

“Which is why,” she continues, “I’ll give you this one warning. In their memory. You’re not playing now, Mingi. At that table we are adults, and we’re adults who hold power. Over Hivesong, and over everyone here. If you don’t find some way to take that responsibility seriously, I will see you stripped of everything you hold dear.”

Yeah, she’s not going to bribe him. Chan was right. “It’s my first night on the job, couldn’t you have started with the veiled threats? Dance around it a bit before you go for the throat?”

“Perhaps I need to be even clearer. I don’t think you’ll last. I think it will be better for you, and it will certainly be better for us, if this is just a brief moment of foolishness on His Majesty’s part.”

“Do you really think that’s all it is, that it’s just foolishness?” He stops her, trying to get her to look at him properly. “Forget the suit, forget how old I am, forget every poem I’ve ever made that you think is a piece of shit.” 

He catches her suppressed twitch of response. “Forget the _swearing_. Just… really? It’s foolishness? Nothing more?”

_Even if I’m not sure if up for it yet, there’s more to me than that._

She studies him, and she’s _good._ That face, it gives nothing away. The worst of it is that it’s his own stupid fault if she only sees the tricks, and not whatever it is that lies beneath. He spends a lot of energy on making sure people don’t look too deep.

“All I see is the King’s poor decision-making.” The General shrugs. “Forgive me, I’ve yet to see anything that convinces me otherwise.” She pats his arm and motions him on. Her next words are so quiet he has to lean over to hear them. “But I also wonder if perhaps it’s cruelty. You haven’t been around him for long enough, perhaps. But I often find that whenever I can’t fathom Jaehan’s motives, there’s usually a thick vein of malice underlying his actions.”

“Cruelty to who, to you?” He’s that much of a punishment? That’s ridiculous.

“No, child. You’re a mayfly, you’re not going to be with us long enough to do much damage to us. I meant cruelty to you. He seems fond of you, and he’s not very kind to his pets. His toys.”

Well, fuck. “You can find your own way to the drinks table, right?”

“I think I can manage.” She’s so good at this. Not a scrap of anything he can read on her face; not pity, not humour, not even an ounce of concern. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Councilor Song.”

Yunho. He needs Yunho, and Minnie, and music. Jonghyuk’s ban on drink, there’s the real cruelty. Reality’s feeling just a tad bit pointy-edged right now, could do with some softening.

He dances for what feels like hours, until he feels as good as drunk on noise and exhaustion, until his suit's sticking to him and the ballroom’s starting to empty out.

By the early hours of the morning he ends up outside on one of the ballroom’s balconies with Yunho and Minnie. Yunho’s borrowed a guitar from one of the musicians and is slowly picking through a series of ballads, singing along quietly. Mingi’s forbidden to sing but when Yunho’s not looking he’s whispering low under his breath, because ballads are just poems with a tune and he loves the old words. 

The guitar’s only just loud enough for them to hear. There’s a makeshift strip of runes tied around the fretboard where Yunho’s figured out how to bypass the spell that was making it louder. Minnie’s smuggled out a whole coconut cake drizzled with honey and Mingi’s fingers are covered in honey and coconut shavings. He feeds Yunho handfuls every so often so his fingers don’t get too sticky to play.

“What did you say to Soyeon?” Minnie asks him suddenly, from where she’s sitting with her legs dangling through the balcony railings. “When I was dancing with Yunho? She looked so upset when I came back.”

“Why do you assume it’s something I said?”

“You two are so alike it’s stupid. It’s why you’re always arguing.”

“What the hells, I’m nothing like her! Yunho, right?”

“Two peas in a pod,” he murmurs over the guitar. “Just one pea is a lot taller and the other pea is heavily armed. Gimme cake.” He opens his mouth for Mingi to feed him another slice.

“She left early. I should go find her, make sure she’s okay.”

Mingi snorts. “You really think anyone’s going to give her trouble? She’s made out of solid iron.”

“She’s not as tough as you think she is.” Minnie looks annoyed. “And anyway, I didn’t mean anyone would give her shit, it’s what she does to herself. In her head.” She hoists herself to her feet abruptly, brushing cake crumbs off her lap. “I’m gonna go find her.”

“Give her my love,” says Mingi around a mouthful of cake.

“I’m trying to make her feel _better_.” Minnie heads inside and he leans his head back against the stone wall. He’s nothing like Soyeon. 

Yunho’s hand stills on the guitar, mid-song. “Oh, hey. I think I figured something out tonight.” 

Mingi waits for it to be something about Minnie; Yunho’s looking so stupidly happy. He wonders just how much he’s had to drink, at least a couple of beers. He holds it well but his face is all flushed and intent. 

“Master Park’s shithouse flower bud. I think I know what I’m doing wrong! I’m trying to push too much energy through it, trying to use force. Trying to be all fancy too, doing the colour changes at the same time as I’m working on the petals.” His hands come up to twine in a graceful move that Mingi recognises from one of the pair dances from earlier in the night. “I’m going about it all sol, need to be more luna.”

Mingi grins, feeling weirdly relieved. “Never ever change.”

“Gotta change, Mingi.” He picks up the song again, trying a few wrong chords until he figures out where he was up to before. “Can’t get better if I don’t change.”

There’s a voice from behind them. “Mingi, I don’t mean to interrupt.” King Jaehan is at the balcony door, watching them. Mingi shoots to his feet, dislodging the cake plate accidentally.

“Your Majesty.” He bows, and pulls Yunho to his feet so he can do the same, bowing clumsily around the guitar slung over his shoulder.

“I wondered if you could spare me some time. There’s one last stop we need to make for your oath-giving.”

“Of course.” He looks hesitantly at Yunho. Does he want to be left alone with King Jaehan, after what he’s heard tonight?

_He’s not very kind to his pets._

“This is just for you,” says the King. “It’s time for your friend to head home, anyway.”

Yunho makes another awkward bow around the guitar. “I’ll see you later on, okay?”

Mingi nods. “Where are we going, or is it a surprise?”

King Jaehan waits for Yunho to leave before he smiles, indulgently. “We’re going to pay a visit to the real power behind this place. A special visit, just to welcome you.”


	3. Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A content warning here: there’s blood, a disembodied horse’s head (though this horse is arguably living her best life), some pissed off ghosts and a brief description of dead bodies.

Despite the warnings, he can’t help feeling a tiny pulse of excitement as the King leads him downstairs through the dining halls and outside the palace. The maggies on duty bow low as they pass, and yes, he could get used to that. Like he’s on special business, and all the doors are opening up to him.

Outside, the night is warm and overcast, stars hidden behind a heavy blanket of clouds. The fragrant scent of herbs hangs in the air as they follow the path through the kitchen gardens, and the singing of the crickets almost drowns out the last of the music drifting down from the ballroom above. 

Beyond the kitchen gardens rises the dark, slumbering bulk of the Wraithwild. The ancient black beech forest stretches all the way to the faraway coast, where the river meets the sea. The forest is old; Hivesong’s first home, here before the god became a house-god, here for thousands of years before the court. Probably be there long after them, too, just patiently waiting them out. Inkthorn blossoms glow ghostly white in the light of the lanterns strung through the trees. 

There’s a single path leading into the forest, carpeted in broken white shells that crunch underfoot. It only leads to one place, as far as he knows. So, looks like they’re going to the Hives. Just like that, Mingi feels that pulse-beat of excitement die away. It’s… sort of disappointing? 

Hivesong’s the real power behind the throne, everyone says so. She’s the house-god. She’s a _god_. It’s just, he’s seen signs that maybe the King thought differently. Maybe he was in on something bigger, something he was going to share tonight. 

But he’s never been inside the Hives, so that’s cool. That’s something, right? He’s seen them from the outside, heard about them from Minnie. They’re starting to show up now through the trees, enormous aerial structures like vertical slabs of honey-amber stone, hanging in sheets from the branches of a stand of ironwood trees. Further inside the ironwood grove, wooden stairs spiral up around the tree trunks to the closed doors of the Hives.

Just as he’s about to follow the path into the grove, King Jaehan touches his arm, stops him. He points off the path, into the darkness.

“Not so fast, Councilor. This is where we’re going.”

There’s another path here, he realises, just harder to see in the dark. He wouldn’t have noticed it at all if the King hadn’t pointed it out. There's no white shell to show up in the dark; this path is a darker beige brown, and the crunching under his boots sounds different, more brittle. He doesn’t want to stop to look - the King is moving ahead swiftly and he’s not about to be left behind in the Wraithwild at night - but he thinks maybe it’s bone. Tiny shards of broken bone.

Strings of small bespelled lanterns twined around the trunks of the beech trees gleam cold white as they draw near, sinking back into darkness after they pass.

The path seems to be looping around the Hives, never straying too far but curving around towards the side furthest from the grove’s entrance. Mingi starts to see a darker shape up ahead through the trees that stays dark even when the lanterns light up everything else around them. Looks like it might be some sort of building, not large but with just enough slender height to block the faint shape of the Hives beyond it. The bone path leads right up to it.

As they get closer, it almost looks like a little guesthouse, a holiday home tucked away in the forest. Sure, the colour scheme is a bit depressing - dark-stained wood under a peaked roof of plain black tiles - but the mullioned windows make it look kind of pretty. Which somehow makes it even more awful that there’s an enormous horse’s head fixed onto the front door. Nailed on, he notices, as he stops walking abruptly. With thick steel tacks. Old blood in thick streaks running down the door.

And it’s still moving.

Liquid black eyes roll at him as the head tosses, its mane a dark river falling all the way to the ground, rippling like river weed. Its nostrils flare as it picks up their scent.

The King turns to him and Mingi realises he’s stopped on the path a way back from the house. From the horse.

“Mingi? Come and join us.” King Jaehan waves him on and for the first time there’s a hint of impatience. A challenge, even. _Surely you’re not going to stop now, when we’re just getting started?_

“Oh, my son.” The horse’s voice is beautiful, a melodious soprano, just slightly husky. “Who is this pretty thing you’ve brought to visit my little house?”

She’s female. He’s got no idea why he automatically assumed a severed horse’s head would be male - maybe it’s just the fucking ridiculous size of it. But of course she’s female; she’s the Mare, the King’s house-god.

He takes a step towards her, then another. Glances at the King and then hastily makes a deep bow to her. He has to force himself to raise his eyes to meet hers afterwards. Her sharp teeth are bloody, and there’s blood in the foam collected at the corners of her mouth. She shakes her head gently, droplets falling around them.

“Pretty boy, with pretty manners. Is he here to join the council? I think he would be an excellent addition.”

“We held his confirmation today. I’ve come to show him the work we’re doing out here.”

“Oh, good. That’s good.” She extends her neck towards him, nostrils wide, snuffling at him. She’s got a wickedly long reach and he has to fight again not to take a step backwards. “And does he have a name, this boy?”

The king nods at him, encouraging.

He has to clear his throat first. “I’m Song Mingi.” How does he address her? “Your Highness.”

“Oh, I’m no _royalty_ , Song Mingi. I keep myself well occupied without needing to be a part of that bun fight. Why don’t you call me… Aunty.” Her eyelids droop closed, long lashes brushing her cheek. “Give me your hand, sweetheart.”

For a moment, he’s confused. How’s he going to shake hands with a horse - a horse that’s just a head? Then he gets it. Has a sudden memory of him and Yunho, just kids, feeding the cavalry horses out in the stables. Palms out with hay balanced on them, giggling with their own daring as the huge heads got closer.

“She needs to know your scent, now that you’re one of us. So that you’re safe to come here.”

There’s still a mess of coconut and honey all over his hand. He’s got no choice: he wipes it hastily along his trousers, trying to scrape off the worst of it. Holds it out, palm up. Despite his best efforts, it’s shaking.

Her neck extends again and that mammoth head drops to snuffle at his hand. It sounds like a soft sigh and he can feel the hot breath, the velvet muzzle tickle his skin. Her eyes are dark and glossy under long black lashes.

“Yes,” she murmurs. “Song Mingi, I’ll remember you now.”

The king is looking at him expectantly.

“Thank you,” he says. If he needs to feed her anything, he’s going to throw up. “Aunty.”

When she pulls away there are flecks of blood-streaked foam on his hand. Probably not acceptable to wipe _that_ off, not in front of her, at least.

The door unlatches and swings open slightly, and she turns to watch them around the edge.

“Enjoy your visit, my loves.”

“Thank you, Aunty,” says the king with his own deep bow.

It’s dark inside, until the bespelled lamps slowly start to light up. Like the lanterns on the path, the spells give off a cool light; just enough to see by, not enough to get more than a glimpse. Carpets on the floor swirl with black and white patterns flecked with red, reminding him of the Mare. 

The King leads him through the entry hall and into a large sitting room, dark and oppressive despite its size. Long couches piled with papers and books line the walls, with more books stacked on the floor. Blankets on one of the couches suggest that the King spends the night out here on occasion. There’s a basket of what looks like dirty rags, stained black and smelling of rust, next to the cold fireplace. 

Through the sitting room is a hallway lined with doors, each locked with a heavy padlock. At the end of the hall, the only door without a padlock opens onto carpeted wooden stairs that lead down into darkness. The intermittent lamps on the stairs glow briefly as they pass and then fade away, so they’re descending from darkness into darkness. They shine with the same cold barely-there white that gives off zero warmth and is almost worse than no light at all. Almost.

“What I’m showing you tonight is for you alone,” says the King. His tone’s conversational. “Your fellow council members have been here too, of course. But this isn’t an open invitation. So you’ll understand when I ask you not to speak of it. No breathless confessions to any of your curious little friends, for instance.”

He already doesn’t want to talk about this to anyone, doesn’t even want to think about it too hard, so he nods in agreement readily enough. The air is starting to become closer and warmer the further they drop down, and the thud of their boots on the wooden stairs is weirdly hypnotic. Belatedly he wipes his hand on his vest, trying to be subtle about it, and hears the king laugh softly.

“Don’t let Aunty bother you. The work we’re doing here, we need the sort of safeguards she can provide. I know she can be a little unsettling. But she’s keeping us safe. And that’s worth any amount of discomfort.”

Yeah, he gets the feeling the King kind of enjoys that discomfort, though. Enjoys _his_ discomfort, anyway. The General’s warning beats in his head and he tucks that away with the things he’s not thinking about, too. “Can you at least give me a sneak preview before we get there? About the work you’re doing?”

“We’re doing, Mingi. You’re a part of this now. That’s why you’re here.”

The stairs finally come to an end at a wide corridor paneled with more of the dark wood, running away into the shadows. The walls are lined with painted portraits in heavy golden frames, like some sort of weird underground gallery. Even in the dimness, he recognises Soyeon in the painting closest to him. Recognises Minnie’s style, too, the skill that manages to catch a likeness with the minimal number of brushstrokes. Soyeon looks so strong and uncompromising, but Minnie’s affection is clear, too, in the way she’s painted her. Funny how it lifts him, kinda feels like they’re here with him.

_You should have stuck to poetry._

They’re so far underground now, and the heat is pressing in on him. There are only two doors off this hallway, both at the far end. The King opens one of them and gestures for Mingi to go through.

His first thought is _library_. It looks a lot like the vast circular library at the palace, with its high domed roof and floor-to-ceiling shelves. Feels like the library, with its almost holy hush. There’s even a study table in the middle of the room.

But it’s so hot in here that he can feel himself start to sweat again under the velvet vest, and the lamps around the walls are red, not green. He can’t guess at the purpose of the single long couch lying next to the study table. A sickly pinkish light reflects off the contents of the shelves, which aren’t books - they’re bottles. Rows and rows of squat glass bottles. Hundreds of them.

The acoustics in here are odd, too. Their boots on the gritty plaster floor sound harsh but somehow muffled at the same time. There’s a smell he recognizes hanging in the air, like honey mixed with spice. Pricks at his nose and makes him want to sneeze. 

“Is that inkthorn pollen?” The Swarm use inkthorn blossoms to create their royal nectar. He remembers the telltale scent from the annual First Nectar parties.

“Not quite,” says the King. “It’s a special blend. It begins as inkthorn pollen, but what we have here is the end product of a more complicated process that involves a little runework, as well as the Swarm.”

He selects a bottle from the shelves and waves a hand at the couch. “Take a seat, Councilor. The best way for you to understand what we have here is to try it yourself.” He shows Mingi the label, like he’s offering him wine. “One of my earliest experiments.”

_Jeon Soyeon. Fifth birthday._

There’s something pale gold lying in the bottom of the bottle, a dry residue that looks like large grains of dust. Soyeon’s fifth birthday… inkthorn has an affinity with memory; it’s the reason the Swarm use it for their royal nectar.

“Wait,” he says, looking around the room. “These are all your memories? You’re collecting your memories?”

He’s amused the King. “This isn’t my memory, no. It’s hers. I’m collecting other people’s memories. That’s what this is, what this whole place is. A window into the minds of my friends - and my enemies. This library, it’s both a weapon and a defence. A resource for our council, in times of need. Put out your hand.”

“This is Soyeon’s memory?” For some reason, the fact that her own father used both names on the label is weirding him out. She’s your daughter, wouldn’t you just use her first name? Does the King consider her a friend, or an enemy? Does she know he has her memories bottled up like this?

“Collected from her using royal nectar, with the memory recovered by the Swarm afterwards and reduced by runework back into a pollen. Each grain is a concentrated version of that memory, able to be sampled. Able to be shared. Your hand, Councilor.”

“I don’t - I don’t feel okay with this?” Whatever this even is, actually. His voice sounds too small and hesitant in his own ears, like it’s being dulled towards silence by the weird acoustics in the room. But it’s Soyeon, and like it or not they’re kind of friends, and the inside of her head doesn’t feel like something he should be messing with.

The King’s face is losing expression in a way that would be ringing alarm bells if they were in the council rooms. 

“I need you to understand what we’re doing here, and believe it or not, I chose this particular bottle for your sake. Most of the rest of these memories are… less pleasant. There’s a reason I’ve been focusing on collecting memories of pain and fear during First Nectar. I’m no sadist, despite what my enemies may tell you. These memories exist because they’re useful to us.”

“How is it useful to make people remember the things that scare them and hurt them?”

“Every time we’re able to learn more about threats, we strengthen our defenses.” He turns the bottle, holding it up in the lamplight so that the contents seem to glow gold. “I’ve also found that in order to rule people wisely and well, I need to understand the secrets they’re holding close to their hearts. And people, rightly or not, don’t tend to yield up their secrets easily. Sometimes they need a little assistance to share.”

“I don’t think Soyeon would want me sharing her secrets, Your Majesty. We’re not that close.” 

She’s not even here to say yes. It just feels… wrong. The whole place, the dust-spice scent of the pollen in his nose, the implacable look on the King’s face as he starts to lose patience, the heat that’s making it hard to breathe in here and making him sweat through the velvet vest.

“Can you give me one of the other ones instead? Someone I don’t know?” 

The king watches him for a moment, eyes half-lidded, bottle still extended. Then he smiles a private smile. “Alright then, Councilor. I can do that.”

He crosses the room to select a second bottle, no hesitation. It’s not going to be anything good. Mingi’s seen how it goes for people who try to say no to the King. But letting the King punish him for refusing, tempting him to do his worst, it’s the only way he can think of to get out of trampling through Soyeon’s memories like he’s got a right to be there. 

The King shows him the new bottle, and it’s a name he doesn’t recognize. 

_Lee Soohyun. First Nectar, Jeon Jaehan 23._

“You’re loyal, even to my daughter, and I know she has her differences with you. I appreciate loyalty as a quality, but you’re rash with it, as well. You speak your mind when perhaps you need to learn a little caution. I think you understand that this comes with a price. Just remember though, in the end, it’s your choice.”

He holds out both bottles, and when Mingi taps Lee Soohyun’s bottle, a small smile plays across his face. “Stubborn and loyal, as expected. Very well. Hold out your hand.”

Mingi holds out the hand that hasn’t been snuffled on by the Mare; he’s not putting the other one anywhere near his mouth. The King unseals the bottle and tips a single large pollen grain onto his palm. The dry itchy scent of inkthorn is overwhelming. He looks to the King for guidance.

“Put it on your tongue. Let it dissolve.”

“The whole thing?”

“The whole thing.”

There’s no way out of this. He trusts King Jaehan isn’t actually looking to kill him on his first day on council, just to show him that there’s going to be a cost if he chooses to speak his mind, which, fair warning. It’s not news. So he’ll be okay. Whatever it is. Hopefully.

He tips the pollen grain into his mouth, breathes in the smell of coconut and honey from the cake still on his hand. It’s a sweet memory of his own; the cake, the gentle sound of the guitar and Yunho’s voice, until the other memory rises up and swallows him whole. 

He wakes up on the couch, hunched up into as small a ball as he can manage. For a moment, even though his eyes are open, he’s still _there._ The whole lower half of his body is in agony and the sounds of combat magic - the screaming, the explosions, the crunch of falling stone - fill the room. It starts to fade, though, even as he looks around. Shelves, bottles full of pain, silence. Heat and silence.

The library. He’s in the King’s library. The King is seated at the table, writing in a book. He looks up as Mingi comes around.

“Can’t move my legs.” He’s panicking for a moment, even as the pain and pressure start to slide away gradually and he can feel his muscles twitch weakly in response.

“You might be interested to hear that the effects are less vivid, when the memory’s not your own. If that had been your own memory, it would have felt real enough to cause you to experience that remembered physical sensation for a long period afterwards. But with someone else’s memory, it’s not quite strong enough to linger long.”

It felt fucking vivid enough. The feeling in his legs is only gradually coming back as the pain recedes. He unrolls himself from his curled up position cautiously. His heart is hammering. When he touches his face, his hand comes away wet. 

“Was it the Hollows?” His voice is thick.

“Did you recognise it? I wondered.”

It takes him a moment to speak. “They took me there, the Jeongs. When we couldn’t bring my parents’ bodies back, after the truce. Some sort of magical contamination. They don’t let you take anything away, so that’s where they’re buried. They took me to visit the graves.”

He’d never seen it whole though, the Hollows. Just what was left of it. The whole place is basically just one big graveyard now. In the memory he’s just seen - lived through - parts of it were still standing, beautiful strong arches of white stone rising above him against the blue sky. Though not for long.

“Now you see the importance of what we do. Every moment of suffering in these bottles makes us safer. Lee Soohyun shares his worst memories, and we learn enough to protect him and others like him in future.”

“What can you learn from _that_?”

“What did we learn from it? We learned about the ways our enemies attack, the cues to look for. Their tactics. Soldiers’ memories are essential to our defence. But don’t worry, this won’t be your role. I already have the General looking into these memories from the borders.”

“They all do this, the councilors?”

“You too, now, Mingi. You’re a part of Hivesong’s defence too. But I’ll find something special for you. Something more suited to what you can do.”

He wants to be helpful. More than just a monkey to provoke or a bloody rag to distract the others. But this… he’s not sure he can keep doing this.

He wipes at his eyes. “I don’t know how suited to this I am, how useful I’m gonna be.”

“There’s absolutely no need for you to doubt yourself. You did so well with it. You’re brave, Mingi, you’ve got the courage to help us with this.” The King rises from the desk and comes to sit beside him. “We’re working on the process itself, too. At the moment, we’re completely dependent on the Swarm, both for the royal nectar to collect the memory and for the process of creating the pollen. It’s a slow process, and you’ve seen how little we produce, just a few grains in each case. But that may not always be the case. I’ve asked some of my best people to work on improvements. People like your friend’s mother, for instance.”

“My friend?”

“Jeong Eunha is an incredibly skilled aura-worker. I believe she may be able to find a way to hold people inside the memory for longer. At the moment, it lasts exactly as long as the real experience. It’s fleeting, and much of the detail is lost in the haze of emotion and physicality. Imagine if you could stay there for hours. Days, even. Truly experience the fullness of what was happening.”

Mingi closes his eyes against the feeling he’s about to throw up what’s left of the cake in his stomach. “It sounds awful.”

“That’s the sacrifice we make to keep everyone safe. Something to bear in mind.”

“And she’s going to do that? She’s helping you with that?”

“She’s considering it.” He claps Mingi on the shoulder. “Come on. If you can walk, I’ve got one last thing to show you.”

Mingi swings his legs around and rests them on the ground. He feels like shit but stubbornness kicks in and he stands up anyway, weak on his legs like a newborn kitten. The Hollows is still there just out of earshot, hiding away behind the silence in the room. There’s a tension in his shoulders like the stone blocks are falling towards him, about to hit any time now. The King is watching him patiently but he gets the feeling that showing weakness now would be a big mistake.

They leave the library and the King pauses in front of the last door in the corridor to unhook a hooded metal lantern from the wall. He takes a strip of parchment from his pocket, screws it up and tosses it inside the lantern, fastening the grate behind it. The lantern starts to glow, growing brighter until they’re standing in a pool of light. 

Even before they go in Mingi can feel the drop in temperature, from the humid heat of the library to a sudden cold that chills the sweat on his skin. As the door opens he can see his breath puff out like a pale cloud in the near freezing air. 

The King hooks his arm around Mingi’s in a companionable way. “When we go in, you need to stay with me in the brightest circle of the light. It’s important.”

The room is circular and cavernous, far bigger than the library. The only light in the room comes from the lantern in the King’s hand, and it barely reaches the walls of the room as they enter. Mingi’s brain struggles to understand what he’s seeing. It looks like an indoor forest; dark skeletal trees grow ragged around the perimeter of the round room, forming a hollow grove between them. They look like inkthorns, but leafless, twisted and ragged. The shapes are all wrong. Takes him a moment to realise why. They’re growing upside down. Their trunks descend from an earth ceiling high above his head, spreading out so that their branches sweep the dark carpets underfoot. 

The King leads him forward into the circle of trees, into the heart of the cold.

At first he thinks there are some sort of freakishly large cocoons hanging in the trees. But they’re not cocoons, they’re bodies. There are actual fucking human bodies nestled in the branches, wrapped in earth-stained cloth. 

He feels that lurch in his stomach again when he sees that the bodies are skewered through by some of the narrower branches, to hold them in place. Spidery runes in rust brown crisscross the cloth bindings, and the branches are slashed and cut with more runes, sap bleeding from the cuts. The room smells metallic, like rust and blood. 

“Song Mingi, welcome to the Secret Council.”

The anger in the centre of the grove hits him with the force of a physical blow. It’s like being battered by a storm of rage mixed with an endlessly patient hunger, and he can feel the exact moment it fixes its attention on him, skewering him through like one of the branches. He looks to the King but Jaehan is the happiest he’s ever seen him - radiant.

He doesn’t see the figures appearing at first, because his eyes are still frantically adjusting to the gloom. It’s the movement that catches his eye; stealthy, furtive. Out of the corner of his eye, never directly in front of him, even though he swings around to try to see them. 

They come towards him from the shadows underneath the trees, bleeding in and out of the darkness like the pale breath pluming from his mouth. They’re just vague shapes, devoid of any recognizable detail. Long silvery smears dissolving on the dark that move with the concentrated intent of pack animals.

“What are they?” he breathes, scared to speak out loud. He’s still swinging around to try and keep them in view, but watching one of them means turning his back on the others. They’re moving faster now, darting forwards each time he takes his eyes off them. 

The King rests a hand on his arm. “They can’t cross the circle of light. You’re quite safe here, as long as you stay with me.” Mingi sees now that the lantern is embossed with runes, and he leans in as close as he can to the light. “I told you I was bringing you to meet with the heart of power in Hivesong. This is it, son.” 

The King turns in a slow circle, lantern raised, taking Mingi with him.

“Despite what the shrinekeepers think, the real power in Hivesong has always been the royal council, and the power that fuels _that_ lies here, underground. These are the councilors who’ve gone before, returned to bring us their wisdom and their long memories. To share with us their defence of our court. To share their secrets. We’re directly under the Hives now, where they’d lain buried and waiting before I came to wake them.”

“You woke them up?”

“Nyxes did the work for me, Mingi, but yes, they’re here by my order. Nyxes serve us well, if we use them with care.”

 _But nyx runework is illegal. And what they do is evil, I’ve always been told. It’s just fucking wrong_. He wants to say it, but he gets the feeling King Jaehan has moved far beyond anything he understands about right and wrong. Feels too like he’s maybe one critical comment away from being ditched here in the middle of the grove by the guy holding the only thing standing between him and the angry ghosts, so he swallows it down instead and just tries to stay as still as he can in the centre of the light. 

The King sees something he likes in his wild-eyed non-reaction and pats his arm fondly. “The problem is what it has always been, Mingi. Hivesong is immortal. She can’t understand humans at heart, her concerns span for aeons. To really care about people, you need humans. Mortal humans, who understand what it is to live, to care for the land and its people, to die. Can’t you hear their voices? They’re always whispering.” The King turns, taking them all in, and Mingi pivots nervously with him. “They never stop telling me things. I sometimes think I can hear them even when I’m not here.”

“How can they help?” he manages. “Doesn’t feel like they care about any of us, they’re just so _angry_.”

“Ah, but their anger is for our country’s enemies, for anyone who would threaten our safety. It’s a good anger, an anger we can use. Like the memories, Mingi. It’s a weapon.”

But it doesn’t feel like that, it feels much more personal. Like he’s done something so wrong he can never make it right, and they’re waiting just out of sight to tear him apart if he sets one more foot wrong. “They’re angry at me, I think. That’s how it feels.”

The King chuckles. It’s not a sound he’s heard before; not one he ever wants to hear again. Especially not surrounded by the hungry dead. “Angry at you? Well, maybe that as well. The dead are not always fond of being reminded of what they’ve lost. But then, they’ve been down here for a while now with only each other for company. It must get a little boring, between visits. I do wonder if they’d enjoy having more youthful company. Someone who can make them laugh, perhaps?”

He’s teasing. He’s fucking teasing him, threatening him, playing him like a fish on a lure, all at once. Mingi’s skin crawls with the need to stay close for safety and pull away for his own sanity.

_Should have stuck to poetry._

Just what the hells did you know, Soyeon? Has he shown you this? The General knew, that asshole Jonghyuk knew. Even Jitae’s been down here and faced this shit. That last thought makes him stand straighter. If Jitae can get out of this intact, there’s no way he’s going to break down and give in. 

King Jaehan gives him an approving look as if sensing the shift. “You’re a good boy, Song Mingi. For all that stubbornness and rashness, you’re loyal. You just need to understand where to direct that loyalty. And, perhaps, the consequences of misdirecting it.” 

He glances around fondly at his pack of feral dead councilors. 

“This isn’t the last of the secrets you’ll be entrusted with, now you’re at our table. Just make sure you keep our secrets and do what you’re told, and you’ll be alright. More than alright. Either way, you’ve got a place here.” His eyes glitter as they meet Mingi’s. “Just as long as you remember, it’s your choice whether you join them at the end of a long career, or after a bright, promising career cut tragically short.”

________________

So that’s his introduction to the royal council, and its secret counterpart. 

If he feels a little screwed up after his visit down the bone path to the Mare’s house, he knows at least he’s not alone. Even if no one acknowledges it; even if they treat him with the same mix of dislike and irritation they’ve always done. They’ve been there. They’ve seen that. They’re wrestling with the memories in the library, same as him, even if nobody talks about it.

Being on the council turns out to be both hard and easy. Hard, because he finds it difficult to move beyond being the court poet, the one who listens to make fun of them, to hear and parrot their stupidity, where the performance is everything and it’s done when the poem’s delivered. Hard because the work involved doesn’t come easy to him the way poetry always did, and he feels like he’s spending days on things that take the others minutes to pick up on.

Easy, because despite everything, despite the actual hard work and the library of pain and the fucking ravenous _ghosts_ waiting right there under the Hives if he’s not careful, he finds that he loves the challenge of being on the council.

He’s learning something from all of them in their own ways, even Jitae; although mostly he’s just an object lesson in how not to screw up. He knows Mingi didn’t take his bribe and he isn’t bothering to hide his hatred, which makes Mingi needle him as best he can so’s he can make Jitae look petty. It’s too easy. Jonghyuk’s right, Jitae’s days are numbered and it’s only his money buying his chair on the council right now.

The General is tougher. Whenever they fall along different lines in a debate he’s mostly backing down for now. Not because he gives two shits about her threat, but because she knows a lot more than him and she’ll show him up in a fight. He’s tried it a couple of times and he just winds up looking like that idiot child they all want to cast him as. For her, he’s biding his time. He’ll go up against her one day, but on his terms.

The King, well, the King is teaching him caution. He was always wary of King Jaehan’s moods - he’s had to be - but now that he’s seen what he’s seen, he’s trying to remember to shut up when his brain is coughing up snappy comebacks like furballs. Whenever he wants to disagree so loudly it feels like the words are burning off his tongue, he’s actually trying to temper it some. There’s a difference between being dishonest and choosing not to say stuff. He doesn’t always succeed, and it’s a tightrope, but… so far he’s still alive to tell the tale.

What he’s learning from Jonghyuk winds up being the most useful lesson of all. At first it feels like the runesmith argues with him just for the sake of arguing, and he can’t see any point to what he challenges and what he lets pass by. Because Jonghyuk’s the only one who seems to have any time for him, he finally gives in and calls him on it, at the end of a long session spiked with debates.

The other councilor has been fiddling with a pile of short strands of wire all session, twisting them into some sort of shape with restless fingers. Must be a runesmith thing; Yunho’s always playing around with wire, too. “I don’t always know what I think, so sometimes I just argue until I figure it out. Bonus if it helps someone else think through their own half-assed point of view.” He sets a tiny figurine on the table in front of Mingi; it’s a dog made out of wire loops, head cocked to one side. “Look, it’s okay if you don’t know what you think right now, you’re a kid and you’re just starting out. Nobody expects you to have a hot take on tariffs or lake fishing rights. But you’re here now, so you can’t just let it sit there. You have to care enough to listen and learn, you can’t just skate on the surface.” 

So Mingi finds himself reading up on this shit in his spare time, which is new. And he has more spare time than before, because he’s moved to his new rooms in the south wing. Between the paperwork and the extra distance, he barely gets to see the Jeongs anymore. He tends to eat alone in his rooms at weird hours because business runs late. He misses the family; the warmth and the noise, the good food; Yunho’s kind, gentle father who is so much like his son; his fiercely loving mother who always seemed to have room in her heart for the extra boy in her household. He even misses Yunho’s little brother, who used to follow Mingi around so much it pissed him off sometimes. 

Mostly though, he just misses Yunho so much it’s like an ache he’s only slowly learning to ignore. No more nighttime shit-talking over stolen leftovers, scrunching their faces into their blankets as they try not to wake the family with their breathless laughter. No more puffy-morning-face Yunho taking the piss out of him when he uses the mirror in his room, trying to get his glamours sorted. Feels like maybe this is what growing up is like; losing the shit that’s important and replacing it with something that’s somehow supposed to matter more, and even though he loves the council work… _that,_ he hates.

He still sees Yunho, of course. They still go out to the tree, still share stuff. But some days it just feels like too much trouble to haul all his papers out to the river, and as autumn comes on it’s raining so much more. Some days - especially when the King has him sifting through memories of misery for lone nuggets of golden information - he feels the secrets he’s keeping weigh him down too much to deal with any questions from Yunho about how he’s doing. Because he can’t tell the truth, and he _hates_ that too.

Even when they do manage to spend time together they argue a lot over really dumb things, like Yunho spending too much time talking to ghosts for his ward work, or even Mingi forgetting to bring the right flavour snack out to the tree. He’s just got a lot on his mind, and he snaps more often than not. Neither of them can hold a grudge against the other for shit, but he’s still getting sick of the same routine of snap and apologise and repeat as required. It makes him feel like a shitty friend, and Yunho deserves better than that.

And sometimes, when he does make the effort to stuff his bad temper and his stupid silence somewhere down deep inside himself and make the trek out to the tree… sometimes Yunho isn’t there anymore. And he knows Yunho misses him, because he’s told him so. But maybe even Yunho’s giving up on him with his moods and his secrets. Which just makes him want to hide away more, in the end.

What they need… what they need is something fun, just pure, plain fun. Just to go back, even for a moment, to how things used to be.

Which is why he starts looking forward to First Nectar, weeks out. There’s something about First Nectar that makes the air at Hivesong catch fire with excitement, like anything’s possible. It’s the first really big party to celebrate the end of the dark, wet winter. Time to get dressed up all fancy, spend a few hours dancing and hanging out with friends. He’ll be able to forget all the bad shit haunting his brain, maybe even forget Jonghyuk’s advice along with it and have a drink. 

Being on the council means he gets to share the secret theme of the night, which only the lucky few are allowed to know. _Treasure._ What does that even mean to him? At least it’s an excuse to sparkle.

 _You wanna shine._ Yeah, damn right he does.

In the old days he would have planned his outfit together with his friends but somehow this year, despite the lead time, it just doesn’t happen. There’s one noncommittal conversation where Yunho suggests combining the treasure theme with flowers, an old staple of First Nectar, but nothing more than that. It’s okay, surprises are good too. 

With his council pay, he has more options than ever and he spends a couple of happy days trawling through Lowtown market stalls looking for inspiration. An antique floral ring in a bin of estate jewelry gives him an idea that appeals to the dark mess that is his current sense of humour. He finds a couple of seamstresses on the Crescent who are happy to make the suit he wants to pair with it, too. 

He suggests to Yunho that they get ready together at his place on the night, and is stupidly excited when Yunho agrees. For a while, it feels just like old times. He changes quickly, checking everything twice and three times over in the long mirror before Yunho calls out that he’s ready.

He’s feeling great - he’s looking utterly _fabulous,_ thank you - but that hot cloud of pride vanishes like steam escaping a kettle - along with his ability to make words - when he comes out and sees Yunho. It’s unfair, really. Yunho’s not usually the fanciest of dressers with his safe, clean, altogether grey ‘boyfriend’ style, but for some reason he’s gone all out tonight. 

Just like Mingi he’s all in black, but his coat shines like moonlight with a spill of silvery embroidered flowers and petals across his shoulders, falling in a scatter down the back of the black coat. Whatever’s sewn into them catches the light as he moves, sliding across them like molten metal. There’s a thin circlet of silver woven with white blossoms in his black hair, and the simplest of cosmetics make his eyes look darker and his skin almost luminous. 

The usual sarcastic bullshit dies on Mingi’s tongue as he takes it all in, but he’s not about to say anything he’s genuinely thinking, either. It’s almost like… he’s what, shy? He shuts his mouth, suddenly aware it’s been open while he was trying to figure out a response.

Yunho cocks his head, curious. “Speechless? That’s new.” He grins. “It suits you, you should try it more often.”

“Asshole,” he says without heat, and just like that the weird mood is broken and he’s good to go again. “Enough about you. Admire me, underling. I demand your praise.”

His suit is black head to toe, and embroidered across it is a silver-gilt skeleton, the long bones matching his own; arms, legs, ribs and spine. The bones are set with pearls and garnets in ornate patterns. Flowers twine between them, ghostly white slowly dip-dying a rust red. His antique find is a gold ring in the shape of an inkthorn blossom, with a vine that winds down around his index finger, complete with thorns and a single ruby drop of blood. 

He’s confident he looks amazing, until he catches Yunho’s face in the mirror; he’s smiling, but he’s not happy. There’s something there in his eyes that’s almost wary.

“What?” He turns, checking out the jeweled spine along his back, the way the short coat fits, it all looks right. He smooths down the front of the coat. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing. It’s great. You look good.” Yunho’s never been able to lie worth shit.

“Seriously, what?” He can feel the blood in his face, embarrassment warring with annoyance.

“It’s just - a skeleton? Really?”

“What do you mean?” It’s a stretch for the treasure theme, maybe, even jeweled, but hey, he treasures his bones. He’s his own treasure, when it comes down to it.

“It’s supposed to be a celebration. A chance to do something happy, for a change.”

“Skeletons are fun! And it’s made out of flowers. It’s cute!” Admittedly he’s also having what is hopefully a well-calculated dig at the King, with his creepy dead council, but the only ones who’ll know that are the other councilors and he’s hoping the amusement value will outweigh any offence. Maybe. It’s why the King appreciates him, right?

“A joke. Okay.” He can see Yunho do that thing where he’s forcibly putting his feelings aside. He still looks pissed off, though, under it all. Yeah, this is going well so far. “The ring’s cool. Where’d you get it?”

He can do this too. He only sounds slightly rumpled when he answers. “Jonghyuk took me to this amazing antiques market in Lowtown, they had the craziest stuff.”

“Do the two of you go over to Lowtown a lot?”

“Some, yeah. He knows lots of places to eat and they’re open later than the dining halls. Sometimes we go over when we’re working nights.” Mostly when Mingi’s had a particularly tough time working with the memories, and Jonghyuk buys him a hot meal to help him shake it off. “You should come along with us someday.”

“I doubt Master Park wants me hanging out with you two.”

“What do you mean, star pupil? He thinks you pee rainbows.” He expects a laugh, but Yunho’s expression gets unexpectedly moody. 

“Yeah, well he hasn’t been too happy with me lately.”

“What do you mean?” If Yunho’s been tanking his lessons and Mingi didn’t even know, he’s a worse friend than he thought.

“He’s been leaning on me to ask my mother to do something for the King. He wouldn’t say what, just that she’s said no. I asked her and she says it’s pretty sketchy.” He looks at Mingi. “Maybe you’ve heard him talk about it?”

Something’s ringing bells. The King, talking about his friend. His friend’s clever mother. “Something to do with memories?” He stops abruptly, realizing how close this is to something he can’t talk about, and Yunho sees it on his face. His expression tightens with unhappiness, and a touch of bitterness.

“Yeah, I guess you know. She’s not telling me much, just that it’s something she’s not comfortable with. And I already know you won’t tell me.”

“It’s not that I won’t, I can’t. I’m not allowed.”

“Sure. You know what, I’m just surprised they didn’t ask you to lean on me too.”

“Ah, they know how easy you find it to say no to me. Jonghyuk’s harder to refuse.” He expects Yunho to at least smile at that - he never says no to Mingi - but he just looks stubborn.

“He’s going to have to take no for an answer, even if he’s being an asshole about it. She’s not doing it, whatever it is.”

“In that case it’s not Jonghyuk you need to worry about, it’s the King.”

And they both know how unsafe it is to have the King’s attention like that. The guard dog in Yunho is fully awake now, all senses on high alert.

“Mingi, if you know what he’s asking her to do, you need to tell me. Come on, you know what she’s like, she just gives me that look when I ask her. Like I’m the one that needs protecting!”

“I can’t! Yunho, I’m sorry, I can’t tell you.”

“If she’s in trouble, I should be helping her, and I can’t if I don’t know what’s happening. Hells, Mingi, she looked after you, you’re basically part of the family, or you were! It’s like you’re turning your your back on us.”

He presses his lips together tight, thinking furiously, biting back the angry words trying to escape. Can he tell him? _Can he?_ What would be the worst? 

You know the worst, you’re wearing it like a second skin tonight. It’s a chair on the Secret Council, shitclown.

No, that’s not the worst. The worst would be saying something and the King finding out that Yunho knows his secret business. Putting Yunho in the path of the King… and it being his fault.

Yunho’s flushed, angry face is already closing off from him. Mingi swallows, raises his chin. “I can’t. Trust me.”

Yunho’s so fucking pissed off with him. The sheen of aura-sight sweeps across his eyes like he’s trying to pull the secret out of Mingi’s aura, but it doesn’t work like that. He has to be pretty pissed to try something like that.

“I do trust you, asshole. I just don’t like you much right now. You know what? I don’t feel like going to this party anymore.” He throws his silver mask onto the table and the door slams behind him as he leaves.

Mingi waits a moment for the anger ringing in his ears to let him breathe. He wants to break shit. Doesn’t trust himself to move right now. Hauls off and kicks the table anyway, enough to hurt. Pulls off his own half-skull mask and throws it at the wall so hard he hears plaster crack.

Doesn’t matter. Not like he’s going to go fucking dancing tonight, anyway. He needs to move. Go. Anywhere. He finds himself leaving, no destination in mind, just away. Far away. 

The great hall is already full of partygoers flooding to the greenhouses as he makes his way through the crowd - heads turning at his skeleton coat, fuck you all, honestly - and past the incurious maggies, out the doors and into the gardens. 

But he can’t leave. He’s council. He has to show his face (no mask now, not much choice).

So he turns on his heel - _such a good boy_ \- and joins the party in the greenhouses. There’s a beaker of nectar in his hand that he only ever touches to his lips, takes the smallest swallow, resists the fiery urge to tip back and top up and keep going. He doesn’t see Yunho, and he steers clear of Minnie. Luckily he doesn’t see Soyeon, because he’s angry enough to take her on, about now. And when he’s mingled enough and smiled enough and made people laugh and seen the King see him there - then, and only then can he leave. 

For a moment he wants to take a boat to Lowtown, but it’s too slow, he needs to be moving. So he walks, feet finding their own path. Just heading away from the lights and music. Away from fucking _people_ and all the things they need from him. 

He doesn’t stop until he’s down at the river, leaning against the tree with the bark pressed up against his forehead hard enough to hurt. Yunho’s not there. He can’t figure out if he’s relieved or miserable about that.

“Just you and me, Your Highness.” He tucks himself into the damp grass under the prince’s tree. The sound of the river is calming, eventually. Just keeps flowing past, no matter how much shit goes on. He can barely hear the music from here, which works fine. 

Despite the damp and the chill and the bony angle of the tree trunk behind him, he’s almost asleep when Yunho finds him. His eyes have drifted closed and he’s been toying with a poem idea for the last while, something about flowers and the moon and really so much bullshit compared to his usual sharp-edged bitchery. He hears him before he sees him. Hard not to. He sounds… the worse for wear.

“Mingi. Song Mingi! Are you even here?” It’s like a loud whisper, cut with laughter. Idiot’s going to fall in the river if he’s not careful.

He shifts, feeling the pains of sitting in one place in the cold for too long. “Over here, numbnuts.”

“Oh good. Good. I found you. I finally found you. I was looking, a lot.”

“Yeah, you found me. Get over here before you go into the water.”

A warm body collapses next to him under the tree. The scent of nectar is potent. He almost feels drunk just inhaling near him. Yunho’s still in his pretty flower suit, looks like maybe he found his way to the party after all. A tiny voice in the back of his head wonders if maybe he found Minnie there and decided to stay a while.

“Listen. I need to give you something, okay? It’s for you. It’s just really important.”

“Is it an apology?”

“No it’s _not_ an apology! It’s _this_.” Yunho presses something into his hand. It’s clammy and warm and slightly damp and it seems to be made of wire. Wire and paper. He holds it up to his eyes but it’s so dark under the tree he can barely make it out. Yunho’s breathing happy fumes all over him as he inspects it. 

“I made it! Just now, tonight.”

“You don’t say.”

“You need to have it. It’s your badge.”

It’s got some sort of loops hung with paper. Like ears - or wings? Yunho’s always fiddling with this kind of shit when he’s bored. 

"Yunho, I don’t… thanks, but it doesn’t exactly go with my outfit.”

“ _You_ don’t go with your outfit! Mingi, you shouldn’t be a skeleton. Don’t be a skeleton next time. It’s unlucky, I fucking hate it. Be a butterfly.”

“Be a butterfly.”

“Yeah, be _this_ butterfly.” He turns awkwardly and fumbles with the little wire creation he’s made. “I’ll pin it on you. Just wait.”

He’s struggling to work the pin on the back but Mingi just waits, watching his face. He’s so serious it’s cute and he feels, finally, the last of his annoyance fading away.

“Yunho, what am I going to do with you?”

“You’re going to join my club.” He manages to unclasp the pin and takes hold of Mingi’s jacket lapel. Mingi’s going to be lucky to get out of this without getting stabbed at least once.

“Which club is that?”

“You are now - almost, just wait - the second only member of Ugly Butterfly Club. I have to tell you about it, though.” He sits back on his heels. “You know how everyone is like a caterpillar at first? Like, kind of small and ugly and stuck on the ground? And then they grow up, and some people turn into beautiful butterflies and just fly away and everyone loves them, because they’re so pretty?”

“Sure.”

“You’re not that butterfly, Mingi.” One clumsy hand pats his shoulder, comforting. “But it’s okay, me either. Some people just turn into ugly butterflies, and that’s okay. You don’t have to be amazing and pretty and happy all the time. You can be as unhappy and shitty as you wanna be, if you need to. I mean, I hate us fighting all the time. But Mingi, just so you know, you could be a complete asshole sometimes, and you’d still be in the club.”

He blinks at him, swaying slightly. He’s still wearing the lopsided crown of flowers. “You _are_ a complete asshole. Don’t care. Still in the club.”

“Is anyone else in this club with us?”

“No, it’s just you. And just me.” A sort of tipsy slyness crosses his face. “You have to be in the club because you are _ugly_. I mean, look at you tonight! All your outsides and all your insides, skeleton Mingi. And don’t even get me _started_ on your aura.”

“There’s nobody else in this club?” He can’t help himself asking. “You don’t want to let Minnie join?”

“No, she cannot. She is too _pretty._ ” The answer makes Mingi absurdly pleased. So what, so he gets a little jealous sometimes.

“What about you, why are you in the club? That makes no sense.”

“It does, it makes _so_ sense. I’m an asshole too. I get so _angry_ sometimes. I know you can’t tell me stuff, I know it’s not safe, and I keep asking anyway. Also my face is all… it’s all squishy.” He fists at his cheeks, pushing them upwards so his eyes are almost closed. “See?” he mumbles. “Squishy.”

“Yunho, if anyone’s a beautiful butterfly, it’s you.”

He’s joking, but also, he kinda means it. Yunho is so beautiful, even drunk, even talking shit like he’s discovered some sort of secret to life. There’s a lightness to him. Being with him is like holding something precious with wings, holding it in your hand so the world doesn’t batter it.

“You take it back!” The beautiful butterfly is hitting his chest with a surprisingly solid thump. Mingi leans back, trying to get out of reach, and Yunho follows him, clambering over his legs to perch on his thighs. Suddenly he has a lapful of warm, honey-scented Yunho, smiling down at him, and his heart is racing so hard he feels like the drunk one. He shifts back against the tree as far as he can, trying to be subtle about it. It’s too much. It’s just way too much for him all of a sudden.

“Okay,” he says, trying to fend him off. “You’re ugly too.”

“I am!” Yunho is beaming. How is he such a dumbass?

“You’re squishy like a ricecake.”

“I am. Hey, ricecakes, I’m hungry.”

“What’s new?”

“Let’s go get something to eat!”

“How about we just sit here for a while. Watch the stars. You can tell me some more about butterflies.” The last thing he wants is to try and get Yunho back across the gardens in this state, in the dark. Besides, a part of him just really wants this time with him, just the two of them. Ugly butterflies. Huh.

So they sit there together, Yunho still half in his lap, getting gently giggly as the nectar starts to put him to sleep, calling him an asshole every so often just to let him know where he stands. When Yunho runs out of things to say about butterflies, Mingi tells him some poetry - the funny stuff they used to love when they were little, that they used to tell Yunho’s little brother at bedtime. He finishes off the poem about the moon and the flowers, building it from scratch as he goes. It’s not his best work, too soft by far, but Yunho’s too sleepy to be a critic.

Eventually, Yunho’s eyes drift closed and he falls asleep on Mingi’s lap. Mingi carefully removes the silver crown of flowers and puts it on his own head for safekeeping. Sometime in the dark hours before dawn, as he pretzels himself around trying to get his coat off just so he can lay it over Yunho to keep off the worst of the dew dampness, he realises the simple truth of the matter. This thing that isn’t going away - is, in fact, getting stronger, even in the face of all these stupid arguments - it’s got a name.

He’s in love with Yunho. He misses him and he’s mad at him and he feels like the worst friend in the world and he just _loves_ him. With all his heart and body and down to his bones. Has done for a long, long time perhaps. 

His legs have been numb for hours at this stage, and he’s going to care deeply about that sometime soon, but for now he’s just caught up in the way Yunho’s long fingers curl over his thigh. The even, gentle rasp of his breathing. Something about the softness of his hair against the back of his neck makes him want to rest a hand there. See if it’s as soft as it looks. Yunho shifts, and he freezes until he’s settled again. 

It feels too easy and it feels too scary. He feels like maybe he should have realised it already, and he feels like he wishes it was something he still didn’t know. He knows what he’s going to do with it, though. He’s burying this shit down so deep it’s never going to see the light of day. 

He’s not stupid. He knows how much Yunho cares about him, it’s all over that squishy face, even if he’s got no way of knowing if he cares about him in quite the same way. He’s spent more than a few moments as his legs went numb and the night settled in around him just helplessly imagining what it would be like to be honest about this, and to see what came next. 

In another world, maybe. Just not this one. Because if he’s honest about this, what the hell else is he going to have to be honest about? Friend Yunho, he can hide the bad stuff from him, because friends don’t drop that sort of shit on each other. If Yunho was _really_ looking at him, if they got any closer than they already are, what’s Yunho going to see when he looks? What’s Mingi going to have to own up to, all that shit in his head? 

The Secret Council… the King pawing through his vault of nightmares… everything he’s seen and heard and not _done_ , not yet, but what if he ends up doing something… terrible? How can he ever be honest about that to someone like Yunho? And if he was, if maybe he could figure out a way to just be honest with him without getting anyone killed - what would happen if Yunho stopped liking him enough to be there for him anymore?

_You can be an asshole, still in the club._

But it’s so new and so utterly breakable, Ugly Butterfly Club. And if he fucks things up because he’s turning into something a few shades deeper and nastier than even Yunho can handle… it would end him.

It’s like the day they all climbed up the cliff to this one ledge over the lake, and dared each other to jump off. Mingi doesn’t care about heights, it was that damn lake that scared him. The smack of your body hitting the water from that far up, and the thought of what might be in the depths below. Launching himself off, flying through the air, _falling_ \- that’s the easy part.

There’s no safe landing here. Just broken bones and deep water waiting for him. The only choice he can make is not to jump off in the first place.

He touches the badge on his coat, strokes the clumsy paper wings with his thumb. It’s okay. It’ll be okay. He’s still got this. They’re best friends, even if he needs to work on that a lot better than he’s been doing so far. And it’s no small thing.

He tucks the coat in tighter around his best friend, and settles in to wait for sunrise.


	4. Petals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, there’s a big content warning for this chapter. Most of the chapter deals with the aftermath of a serious attack. There are mentions of blood and injury and a couple of mentioned deaths. No MCD and the attack itself is not described in any detail. Find me on twt @nelliedae if you want to check anything first.

Following First Nectar he starts trying harder - at everything. 

Reading up on the million and one things he doesn’t understand about the council’s business and trying to come up with something a bit more clever than insults and jokes during sessions. Finding enough good stuff in the memories the King sets him on that he can earn some precious downtime for himself. Keeping his temper and holding his tongue those times he does get to spend with Yunho, so they can be good times. 

It helps that he keeps the butterfly badge in a pocket to remind him. If nothing else, pressing his thumb down hard on the pin is a reminder to stop and think before running his mouth and picking a fight. Half the time he’s with Yunho he’s jumpy and on fire with the feeling he gets being close to him, can’t even make his face work like it used to, his expressions feel too big or something. The other half he’s trying to keep his distance, tensed up tight that he’s giving away more than he wants to. 

He’s not always successful, with any of it. He’s working too much and sleeping too little to be who he needs to be all the time. 

There’s a day where no amount of pushing his thumb onto the pin can stop him from going after Jitae so savagely that the other councilor loses his rag, makes a fool of himself and finally loses his seat on the council. Jonghyuk finds it hysterical, the General seems indifferent and Shrinekeeper Yeonhee… she still doesn’t get her shot at the table. The King brings in another Lakesider with more money than brains and the dance goes on.

There are fights with Yunho – always about the dumbest shit – that end up with one or both of them storming off, though so far they always end up back at the tree sooner or later, as if nothing has happened. There are moments when Yunho catches him staring, when it feels like he’s given himself away with whatever’s on his face. Yunho just jokes about it, and the moment always passes.

The day he shows up at the tree and Yunho’s not there… he’s tired. He’d been across to Lowtown with Jonghyuk the night before after an especially vicious session with the memory library. Yunho’s supposed to be at the tree, and he’s supposed to have brought food, and the first reaction he has is frustrated anger. He always remembers that, later. There was nothing to eat, and he was angry.

The afternoon passes with no Yunho. They’re not even fighting right now, it makes no sense. Sure, Yunho gets caught up in his studies, but he should be here by now. Sometime around sunset, his pissy anger turns into something closer to worry. They’ve got so little time together. It’s just not like Yunho to stand him up. 

He would have spent the afternoon with the Hivesong ghosts; research, for his classes with Jonghyuk. He’s been practicing his warding, but true to form he’s gotten interested in the ghosts’ stories, feels sorry for them, wants to keep them company. Mingi racks his brain, trying to remember details, but he’s tired. It takes him a while. He remembers that later too. He hadn’t been listening well enough to go straight there. Mingi, whose job is remembering the words of others. 

He gets worried enough to go back to the palace, though. He’s wandering, a bit aimless, when it comes back to him, and he’s _proud of himself_. He’s fucking proud of himself. The old armory - Yunho’s been talking to the ghosts in the armory. There’s a (former) junior assistant clerk there who knows some country ballads he’s keen to learn.

Yunho had been playing them to Mingi on the guitar. 

So he goes to the old armory. Technically, it’s in the private wing of the palace. Off limits. But he’s council, and that part of the palace is usually pretty quiet, anyway. And when he gets there.

When he gets there. Yunho’s there. On the ground.

For a split second he thinks they’re flowers on Yunho’s shirt. Burst petals from that one rune spell.

They’re not flowers.

It’s blood.

He’s curled in on himself, all small, and he’s not moving.

Later, Mingi doesn’t remember a lot of the next space of time. The cold somehow numb energy that floods through him when he works out that Yunho’s heart is still beating, he’s still breathing. Yelling a lot, over and over, until someone finally hears him and goes for help. Trying to figure out where all the blood’s coming from and doing what he can to stop it. Curling up over Yunho, talking to him even though he can’t hear, trying to keep him warm without pressing too hard on anything that looks wrong or broken or hurt.

The healers come at last, and carry Yunho with gentle care to the infirmary. Next thing he knows he’s holding onto Yunho’s father and apologising for getting blood all over him and he can’t stop crying. Shaking so hard he ends up sitting on the floor with him. 

Yunho’s mother is in with the healers, doing something. Saving Yunho.

Hours pass. Somehow. He can’t make it make sense. Everyone loves Yunho, like _everyone_.

Ghosts can’t do that, right? Hurt people that bad?

“What was he doing, do you know?” Yunho’s father looks just like him and it _hurts_. He has the same look of pure baffled surprise when life unexpectedly fucks with him.

Mingi wipes his face on his sleeve. “He was just talking to ghosts. They were teaching him songs.”

“He wasn’t involved in anything else?”

For a moment Mingi’s swirling cloud of anger focuses down on him, because how could he think that, doesn’t he know Yunho? But he shrugs, helpless, because none of it makes any sense at all.

He’s still got blood all over his shirt and his hands and under his nails and it feels so awful and weird as it dries but he’s scared to get rid of it.

He doesn’t even realize he’s fallen asleep - still on the floor - until Yunho’s mother shakes his shoulder to wake him up. It’s dark, just low lamplight, and he’s covered in a blanket. She’s crouched down next to him. “He’s doing okay, Mingi. We’re keeping him asleep, for now. But he’s okay.” She wraps her arms around him and holds him tight. He doesn’t know how she can do it, be so strong.

“What happened to him?”

Her voice is thick with tears and tiredness. “He can’t tell us right now. We don’t know.”

All she can tell them is that he’s still alive and fighting. He’s got a fractured leg, a broken nose, a whole lot of cuts and scrapes and bruises. Couple of lacerations on his head that caused the worst of the bleeding. Looks like someone beat him up and left him there.

They won’t know what happened until he wakes up. Yunho’s parents try to send Mingi back to his rooms but he just tucks up in a corner of the infirmary and waits. Goes to find water and washes the blood off as best he can. He dozes, wakes, goes back to sleep. 

When Yunho’s mother wakes him up again, it’s daytime. Light streams in through the windows and he blinks, dizzy and thirsty. “He’s awake, sweetheart. You can go in and say hi, if you like.” She rubs his shoulder. “Just don’t ask about anything… okay?”

“Did he say who did it?”

“He says it was the Magpies. Because he wasn’t supposed to be where he was.”

The maggies? The fucking maggies. It goes on not making any sense. The armory’s closed, sure, but who’s ever cared about that? Enough to hurt someone like that?

He pulls himself up and wraps himself in the blanket. He’s scared to go in, but when he does, it’s just Yunho after all. He looks so hurt and small and it makes Mingi’s whole self ache but his eyes are open - just for a moment - and Mingi holds his hand and silently sends him all the love he’s been too scared to give until now. Yunho’s mother lets him stay there until Yunho goes back to sleep.

She’s going to go and see the King, with Yunho’s father. They ask him to stay in the room until they get back, so he curls up next to the bed and dozes while Yunho sleeps.

When Yunho’s parents get back, his mother calls Mingi outside to talk to him, leaving his father in with Yunho.

She’s more like him than Yunho, he can see at a glance. She’s not baffled, she’s _angry._ She’s so furious she’s shaking with it.

“I shouldn’t be telling you this,” she says. “You’re just a kid, too. Except you’re not really just a kid anymore, are you? Not after joining that fucking nest of snakes.” She’s pacing, walking off the energy of her anger. 

“Did you tell the King?”

“Oh, he knew. He’s already heard about it. It’s been referred to the Magpies to deal with. Apparently the situation is _delicate_.” Her eyes are fiery and it looks like she hasn’t slept in days. “That asshole,” she starts. “That _asshole_ says he isn’t going to help us because it’s delicate. But you know what, Mingi? He’s punishing us. He’s punishing _me_.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s asked me to figure something out for him. Solve a problem. I think you probably know that, right?”

He barely knows shit. But this must be what Jonghyuk was talking to Yunho about a while back. Something about the library of memories, and what she can do with auras. He shrugs, unsure.

“He wants me to find a way to hold people inside his collection of memories. So they can take the time to explore, he says. Learn everything useful. But I know him, Mingi, I’ve seen how he works. He wants to trap people inside their own heads, in their worst fears. He’s a monster.”

Mingi can’t help checking the room, seeing if anyone’s listening. It’s the sort of talk that gets you locked up. Or worse. 

“You think he’s refusing to help because you won’t do what he wants?”

“All I know is, if he wanted he could get to the bottom of this. He can make justice happen. Find out who did this, and why.” She stops her pacing, arms wrapped tight around herself to hold in the anger. “He smiled at us. He apologized, and he smiled. That’s your ruler. That’s the man you follow.”

Mingi lets the blanket drop. He’s so tired he’s practically asleep on his feet. “I’m gonna go see him. He’s not angry at me. He’ll listen.”

“Mingi, no, it’s not safe.”

“Yunho wasn’t safe. If he’s not safe, none of us deserve to be safe.”

And she lets him go. She knows she can’t stop him - but she also knows he’s right. And she wants justice more than she wants him to be safe, and he gets that with all of the fury in his heart.

There’s still dried blood all over his shirt when he tracks down the King. The maggies on guard give him a cursory inspection when he reaches the King’s rooms, but they let him through. He’s not armed. He’s a councilor. It’s good for something.

The King is eating a late lunch as he reads through dispatches. He finishes the document he’s scanning before looking up at Mingi.

“I was very sorry to hear of your friend’s encounter.”

“Encounter? It wasn’t an _encounter_ ,” he says coldly. “An encounter’s when you’re out somewhere and you run into a friend by chance. He got beaten up, Your Majesty. By the Magpies.”

The King’s only reaction is a slow blink. He looks bored of the conversation already. “I hear he was trespassing.”

“He wasn’t hurting anyone! And they nearly killed him!”

“It’s unfortunate, but they were only doing their duty, Mingi. They’re part of the defense of Hivesong, just like you are.”

He’s too tired to stop the words that tumble out of him. The thought of the butterfly badge in his pocket makes him want to throw something hard at the wall. “That’s just _bullshit_. He was listening to a ghost sing him a song. He’s about as far away from threatening as you can possibly get.”

The king watches him with glittering eyes, pen poised over his papers. “I get the feeling you’re asking me for something, poet.”

“Do you know who did it?”

“As a matter of fact, no. It’s an internal matter. The Magpies handle their own affairs. They’ll arrange for the guards involved to be fined, of course, and punished accordingly.”

_Fined?_ He finds himself in front of the King’s desk, leaning down over the stack of papers. “This is his blood on my shirt. Your Majesty. It’s on me, but it’s on you too, if you don’t fix this.”

The King sits back, regarding him. “Are you giving me an ultimatum?”

“I’m asking you to _help_. If you ever cared about me at all. If you care about Hivesong and you don’t want it to be a place where things like this just happen and nobody does anything. Just ask them. Find out about it.”

There’s a silence. Mingi wonders dully if this is it, the moment he signs his name onto the Secret Council. He doesn’t much care right now, as long as he can fix this first.

“Very well. I’ll make enquiries.” 

“You’ll find out who did it?”

“Don’t test me.” The tone is still mild, but the threat is there. This is the man who fed him a memory of the place his parents died, and smiled as he offered it. 

Mingi nods, because it’s all he can do, for now. He takes his leave and heads back to his rooms to change out of his bloody clothes. He can’t bring himself to send them to the laundry, not yet. He makes sure to transfer the butterfly badge into his clean pocket. 

When he gets back to the infirmary Yunho’s parents are eating in the waiting room, hurried bowls of noodles in soup, and Minnie is in with Yunho. Yunho’s mother gives him a nod, one soldier to another, as he goes through to visit.

Minnie’s face is all blotchy and puffy from crying but she’s smiling as she sings softly to Yunho.

Mingi leans on the end of the bed where Yunho can see him and listens to her; it’s soothing, and he feels all the tension in him ratchet down a notch. When she finishes she gets up to wrap Mingi in a fierce hug.

When he gets the chance to sit near Yunho, he has to take a moment to try and figure out where he can touch him. His face is scraped and bruised, swollen and almost unrecognizable. There’s still blood matted in his hair. Only his hand, resting on the blanket, looks miraculously mostly unhurt. Mingi puts his hand over it and threads his fingers through. 

The first time he hears Yunho say something, it’s about his aura. One eye is completely swollen shut, but the other flickers with aura-sight, silver to dark and back again. 

“Helps,” he says. His voice is such a quiet husky thing that Mingi has to lean close to hear him. “Seeing you. Aura.”

“My aura helps?” 

Yunho nods. It feels weird that something he can’t even see can help Yunho more than anything he can do on purpose. He knows auras exist, but they might as well be made-up for all the control he has over his. All he can do is sit there and hope it’s doing whatever it is that Yunho needs. It doesn’t feel like much. Feels like sweet fuck all, in fact.

One of the assistant healers comes in with a mug of something that looks like tea and smells like a wet dog. His eyes gloss over with aura-sight as he checks Yunho. He runs gentle hands through the air over Yunho’s legs, making a slow, smoothing motion as he goes. 

Mingi’s too scared to ask, but the healer looks up at him with a reassuring smile. “His aura’s strong and responsive. It’s a good sign.” He helps Yunho take a sip from the mug and then hands it to Mingi. “See if you can get him to keep drinking this. It’ll help with the pain. Cease-pain spells are doing a little, but this will strengthen what he can do for himself with his aura.”

Mingi gets Yunho to drink maybe half the mug while he and Minnie share awkward, hushed attempts at making him smile. When Yunho asks, Minnie sings another song for him. His eyes close part way through and they leave him to sleep.

Minnie gives him another one of those limpet hugs in the waiting room. She pulls him out of earshot from Yunho’s parents and says quietly, “Soyeon wants to see you. She’s outside.”

He gets the impression it’s more than a social invite. 

She’s waiting for him outside the infirmary, pacing up and down the hall, still wearing her practice armour and padding from a training session.

There’s so much pain and venom in her eyes - it’s like looking into a mirror. “Okay, Mingi, we need to go somewhere outside so I can yell at you.”

For about a split second he wants to go for her, just so that he can get rid of some of his own helpless fury. Fighting her feels like a _great_ idea.

A split second is all. Then the haze clears. He follows her blindly, out of the palace and into the gardens, far away from everyone. She doesn't slow her pace until they’ve found somewhere quiet, a pretty little terrace planted with rambling roses. Then she turns on him, hands clenched into fists. 

“You took this to my father. So you’re either stupid, or you’ve got a death wish.”

“He can do something about it! The maggies aren’t going to do shit, this is just a usual day's work for them. But he can - I don’t know, he can make sure there’s some justice!”

“Okay, not a death wish, just stupid! How long have you been working with him, and you think there’s any justice in him?”

“He told me he’d help!”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know what you said to him, but he’s pissed. You made him mad. He’s not going to help you, whatever he told you.”

“Well, what the fuck, Soyeon? So you dragged me out here to tell me, what? That there’s nothing we can do?”

“No! Fuck, no, of course not! Just that, if we want anything done, we’re going to have to be the ones who do it. And I think I know how.”

She throws herself down on a stone bench, and after a moment he follows her.

“The problem is, we don’t know who it was, right? It could have been any of them,” she says. “So that’s the first thing. We need to find out who did it.”

“They had masks on.” He’s already been over this with Yunho’s parents. “He doesn’t remember anything much about what they looked like.”

“But what about their auras?”

He just looks at her. Thinks it through. She’s right. If Yunho saw their auras…. they might have a chance at finding them. “None of us can track them through their auras, though.”

“Yeah, what about Jonghyuk? Think about it. He’s got aura-sight, and he’s Yunho’s teacher. He’s an asshole, but he’ll help us.”

“Yunho’s not going to want to talk about it. How’re we even going to find out something like that?”

“We aren’t. _You_ are. He’s talking to you, right?”

“He’s barely talking at all.”

“You need to ask him. Figure it out. We’ve got something else we can try in the meantime. I’ve asked Minnie to talk to the Swarm. They’re everywhere, there’s no way they don’t know something.”

He’s watching the way anger’s animating her from within, like a lantern. “Why do you even care? You hardly know him.”

She swings that anger towards him. “Hivesong is in a deep hole full of shit if you have to ask why someone cares when something like this happens, seriously.” 

For the first time, he sees her as the heir to the throne. Not just the wannabe poet, a dagger-toting pocket warrior, someone he can give shit about daddy issues, but as someone who could genuinely care about the people she’s sworn to. “Minnie’s right,” he says. “You do have a heart.”

“Fuck off.” She scowls at him. “Just, stop trusting my father so much, okay? He’s not your friend and he doesn’t give a shit about Yunho. He’ll always do what’s best for himself.”

Life falls into a weird pattern, the new normal. He sleeps for a few hours in his rooms, scrounges something to eat at the dining halls, spends most of his day tucked up in the infirmary with a stack of papers and a backache. 

Every time he sees one of the maggies he thinks, _is that him_? Could that be one of them? And what’s it going to do to Yunho if they’re still walking around free when he gets out?

When Yunho’s parents aren’t visiting, he sits by the bed. Sometimes they talk a little, but often he’s just reading, reaching out to touch Yunho’s hand now and again, doing whatever it is his aura apparently does well, nagging him until he drinks his wet dog tea. 

The healers are in and out all the time with infusions and poultices made from the medicinal plants growing through the Wraithwild and the runeworked herbs in the greenhouses. 

The King seems willing to cut him a little slack from his council duties, but he senses it’s temporary. Jonghyuk sends clerks over with new stacks of things to read every day or two, and he’s trying to keep up.

Right now, he’s in his rooms collecting up a proposal to take back the Hollows, the magically contaminated border town where his parents are buried. There’s a runesmith with what might be a workable plan for decontamination; the General’s opposing it due to the risk, but he wants to understand it better. He’s gathering all the papers together when there’s a knock at his door.

It’s Minnie, dressed in her shrinekeeper whites. She’s not smiling, and it’s not like her. 

“Is something wrong?” His head’s always one panicky step away from bad news these days.

“Can I come in?”

He steps back and she threads her way into the clutter that his rooms are becoming. Papers, clothes everywhere. 

“Did Soyeon tell you, she asked me to talk to the Swarm about Yunho? Find out what they knew?”

“Yeah, she said. Why, what’s happened, did they tell you something?”

“It’s not that easy to talk to them. I’m just a junior shrinekeeper, and there are protocols. I had to petition them, but I finally got an audience. They wouldn’t tell me anything, but the Queen… Mingi, she wants to talk to you.”

“To me?” Cold unease wars with excitement, if this is finally a lead. He hasn’t been able to ask Yunho about the auras yet. It just never seems like the right time to bring it up, when he’s barely ever awake. “Well, can we go now? I can talk to her now.”

“You don’t have to go anywhere.” Minnie lifts aside a pile of books and bowls and sits on his couch. “She’ll talk through me.”

When she meets his eyes, he finally recognizes the look on her face. She’s terrified and holding herself as still as she can so that she doesn’t fall apart. 

There are no other free spaces to sit so he crouches down next to her. “Is that okay? Is it safe?”

“I’ve never done it before. It’s… an honour. Usually only the seniors get to carry the voice of the Queen.”

He remembers Yeonhee, the day the Hive voted him onto council. The confirmation, when she touched the back of his head and he could _feel_ the Queen there inside her, cold and very, very not human.

“Minnie, you don’t have to do this.”

Her dark eyes are wide with fear. “I want to help Yunho. Just let me do this, before I chicken out, okay?”

He nods, understanding, and she manages a small smile in return. She takes out a piece of paper wrapped in a twist around a lump of bright waxy gold; the honey cell that will let the Queen inhabit her body, temporarily. 

When she swallows it the change is rapid. Her eyes flutter closed and then open on a slow blink, shot through with an amber-gold radiance. When she opens her mouth to speak, a warm misty light comes from inside, like something golden has burrowed inside.

“Song Mingi.” Her voice is a dry hiss. 

“Majesty.” He bows his head, swiftly. At least he’s already practically kneeling.

“You’re seeking the names of the men who hurt your companion. We can tell you their names. We will be happy to help with this.”

Straight to business. There’s a fierce leap of joy in his chest. She _knows_. 

“As soon as you have agreed to help us, in return.”

He bites back his instinctive response - _anything_ , just tell me - because he’s learning. Slowly, but he’s learning. “Thank you, Your Majesty. What do you need me to do?”

“We are unwell, and we desire a cure. There is a rot in Hivesong that eats away at our wellbeing, day by day. We are not who we were, and we desire to return to our former state of purity. We believe you can help us with this.”

Okay, he’s lost. “Your Majesty, I’m not a healer.”

“We do not require a healer. Merely someone in the right place, at the right time, and willing to act in our interests as instructed.”

“You think I can help you? With this rot, this sickness?”

“We placed you on the council for this purpose, Song Mingi. So that you could become closer to him. The source of our ills.”

Light’s dawning. A fucking cold, terrifying light, like the one pouring out of Minnie as if she’s nothing more than a piece of clothing to put on or discard. But he needs to be sure. “Who exactly did you want me to be closer to, Majesty?”

“King Jaehan. He is filth, arrogant filth, and every day he stays on the throne he drags Hivesong further down into the muck with him. The ruling of Hivesong is a balanced dance of two monarchs, and he seeks to destroy the balance, him and his Mare. He needs to be excised. And if you are careful and clever, Song Mingi, you can be the tipping point for what must happen.”

He sits backwards. Needs to sit. Oh gods and all the hells, he needs to be careful here. She wants him to - _oh gods._

“What if - what if I’m not able to help with that?”

“If your loyalty to Jaehan is greater than your loyalty to Hivesong?”

“If, if I can’t choose. If I’m trying to serve both of you.”

A soft, hissing laugh comes from Minnie’s throat. “Then we shall look for other means. But you will not have the names you need to help your companion. Not unless you agree.”

_Yunho. I can’t._

Mingi closes his eyes. It’s not going to be safe for any of them ever again, if he agrees to this. Sets himself against the King, becomes a pawn for the Queen. He opens his eyes again. He wants to say yes anyway. Gods, he wants to say yes. But he can’t take that risk.

“I can’t help you. I’m sorry, Majesty.” 

_I’m so sorry, Yunho. We’ll find another way. I swear._

She observes him for a moment with that cool gold stare, as the light rises around her. Then, as swiftly as she arrived, she’s gone. He jumps forward to catch Minnie as she sways on her seat and starts to fall.

She’s shaking under his hands and he holds onto her while she gets herself together.

“Did you hear?” he asks, needing not to be the only one with that shit in his head. “Can you hear what’s happening when she’s there?”

“Yeah,” she answers. Her face has gone so pale, her eyes look enormous and dark. “Yeah, I heard. Oh gods, Mingi, what are you in the middle of?”

He’s shaking too, some sort of delayed reaction. “Should I have agreed? Did I fuck up? We could have got them, Minnie. She knows who they are.”

“No!” She pulls back from him, adamant. “Gods, no, you did right! Do you think Yunho would want you to - what, set yourself up against the King? Just to help find out who hurt him?”

Another thought hits him. “Shit, what do we tell Soyeon?”

Minnie looks stricken. “We can’t tell _anyone_. Not Soyeon, not Yunho, nobody. Mingi, this is the house-god’s business. You know and I know, but if we tell anyone… she’s everywhere. She hears everything. Promise me you won’t say anything.”

“But the Queen’s trying to get rid of Soyeon’s father.”

Minnie’s still shaking her head with a bright look of terror on her face. “This isn’t our fight, Mingi, we can’t get involved. I hear things from Soyeon, I know her father’s not one of the good guys, but we can’t make that choice, we can’t help either of them. We’re not big enough for this.”

“I can’t warn the King.” If King Jaehan knows that Hivesong sees Mingi as a potential ally, he’s going to end up with that seat on the Secret Council before he even makes eighteen. Oh, what an honour. He thinks maybe he’s getting a little hysterical.

Minnie gives his arm a shake. “This conversation dies here, okay? I’ll tell Soyeon that the Swarm couldn’t help. And we just - we forget about the other thing.”

“The auras. If I can get Yunho to tell me about their auras, we can still find them.”

“Or, here’s a crazy idea, we just forget about revenge.” She laughs, but there’s absolutely no humour in it. She sounds like she’s on the verge of tears. “We thank all the gods that he’s alive, and we help him get better, and we just walk away from this.”

He just looks at her. Because there’s no fucking _way_ he’s walking away, not while they’re still out there, breathing the air and probably living their best lives. They need to be gone, before Yunho gets out of the infirmary. Whatever it takes.

  
  
  


Finding out about the auras though, it’s not going to be easy, on either of them. Yunho spends more of each day awake, but he never talks about the attack, and everyone’s been warned not to ask him. There’s a silent agreement to keep everything light, predictable, and so relentlessly gentle that Mingi’s anger burns a hole in him with the need to keep things calm and loving. 

Yunho’s parents trust him to keep to that silent agreement. But he thinks that maybe - just maybe - Yunho’s mother might understand, if asking a couple of terrible questions now will get those assholes out of Hivesong before Yunho ever has to see them again.

That’s what he tells himself.

It takes him over a week to get brave enough to try. Even though Yunho’s face is still a rainbow of fading bruises, the swelling is going down and his breathing is getting easier as his nose heals. He’s still sleeping a lot, but he’s getting restless enough to be increasingly pissed off when he’s awake.

When the healer brings in the latest mug of wet dog tea, he refuses to drink it. “It puts me to sleep.”

Mingi takes the mug from the healer. “That’s good, right? The more you sleep, the faster you get better?”

Yunho looks at him with distaste. He’s getting used to seeing a whole range of new expressions on Yunho’s face these days, none of them happy. “You try spending half your life unconscious and see how good that feels.”

“Aren’t you in pain, though?”

“What do you think?”

It’s his leg that hurts worst, Mingi knows. His shin; that’s where the aura-workers spend most of their time. They think he was kicked hard enough to crack one of the bones. That thought, alone. That’s enough to light a fire under his anger that’s not going to burn out any time soon.

“How about just a mouthful of the tea?” Some days it feels like he’s looking after a six foot toddler, trying to get him to eat his vegetables. 

Yunho glares at him as if he’s caught the thought. His eyes give off a silver shine as his aura-sight flickers on briefly. “I’m not a kid, Mingi. I’m just - I’m sick of sleeping. There’s worse things than pain.”

“Council meetings,” he offers, trying for a smile. “Watching Jitae dance. That one eel dish they make for Waterfair.”

“Listening to you sing.”

“Hey,” he says, without heat, even though there’s a bitchy edge to Yunho’s voice that gets his back up. 

“Sorry, I’m just so sick of being here. It feels like I’ve been in this bed forever, looking at that one big tree out the window. I hate that tree more than I’ve ever hated anything.”

“What about the work Jonghyuk left for you?”

There are a stack of runecrafting exercises on the bedside table.

“Nothing’s working, I can’t concentrate enough. All I can do are the baby exercises, and I haven’t done that shit in years.” 

It’s like everything he says just makes things worse; Mingi gets that feeling a lot. Truth is, it doesn’t take much to make Yunho irritated these days. He adds runework to the increasing list of things he has to avoid mentioning. Pretty soon they’ll only have the weather left.

He notices the restless flare of silver in his eyes again. “Why do you do that?” he asks, impulsively. “You keep using aura-sight.”

“I’m supposed to be using it to help me heal. They’ve been showing me how to move the energy around and focus it where I need it.” 

“You said it helped, before. My aura.” He feels like shit as soon as he says it. It’s not about him, he knows it isn’t. But he can’t seem to do anything else to help and it would be nice to know there’s one thing he’s getting right. “Sorry, forget I said anything.”

Yunho looks so tired. “No, it’s okay. Sorry. I’m just not sleeping well.” He offers a humorless laugh. “I’m sleeping a lot, but I’m not sleeping well. Bad dreams. And yeah, your aura does help. It’s kind of hard to explain.”

“You don’t have to explain anything.”

“No, but… come here. Bring the chair over here.” Mingi’s set up a makeshift work table on the window ledge, but he shifts Yunho’s bedside table away and pulls up the chair, as instructed. Yunho reaches for his hand, and he feels his pulse rocket up immediately at the unexpected contact. Focuses on the healing scabs across Yunho’s knuckles, because he’s sure as hell not looking at his face this close up. 

“You can’t see it, I know. But it’s like, we’ve been friends for a long time, right?”

“Yeah. We have.” His voice is going to give him away. The casual touches of old, they’re not so much a thing in here, and he’s got no armor against it anymore.

“You can actually see it, in our auras.” 

He knows without looking that Yunho’s smiling. He’s finally done something to make him happier, and he can’t even see it. “What does it look like?”

“Right over where our hands are now? They’re kind of - it’s like a piece of braiding. They’re all over and under each other, all twined up.” He slides his fingers between Mingi’s to demonstrate and Mingi’s heart just about stops. “Like that.” He doesn’t trust himself to say anything, and Yunho goes on. “I remember waking up, just after. And your aura was all around me, all through mine. And it made me feel… safe.” He sighs, and his breath brushes Mingi’s hand. “I don’t feel very safe most of the time. Even with all of you around, staying with me. So yeah, it helps. It helps a lot.”

“I need to ask you something.” He says it quickly, before he can stop himself. There’s no good time, and this is probably the worst time, but he can’t keep ducking this. Not if he _really_ wants to help. “I’m so sorry, Yunho, I need to ask this. Please… just please, don’t hate me.” He pulls his hand away before Yunho can withdraw first. “It’s about that day.”

The silence that meets him is so loud. He slides the chair back, away. 

“I need to know if you saw their auras. If you can tell me what they looked like.”

When he looks up, Yunho’s not even looking at him. His eyes are closed, and his face looks sickly pale under the splotches of bruising. Mingi curls his fingers into his palms hard enough for the nails to cut in. It takes all his willpower not to tell Yunho to forget it, to leave the room before he can do worse damage. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I need to know.”

“Why?” His voice is so quiet and so small.

_Because they’re still out there. Because I’d kill them myself if it would stop you feeling like this._

He can’t tell the truth - that none of the grownups are doing anything to make Yunho safe again. That it’s up to them to fix this. He wants Yunho to think people care enough to help; he deserves to live in that kind of world.

“So I can tell the King. So he’ll send them away.”

Just like that, Yunho starts to cry. He looks away, out the window, the tears sliding down his face. He wipes them away on his sleeve but more keep coming. “It’s hard. I don’t - Mingi, it’s hard to remember much. Do you really need to know?”

“Yeah. Yes, I do. Whatever you remember about their auras.” He’s the worst fucking friend in the world. There’s a sharp pain running right through his heart, like something in there has just broken in two, and it’s no less than he deserves.

“Okay, just don’t make me say this more than once. I can’t keep doing this. Going back there. Give me the tea. I’m gonna go to sleep, after.” Even though it’s cold, Yunho drains it in a couple of gulps. There's a long silence where he thinks it through, swiping away the tears. “One of them was green, the big one. Kind of a seaweed soup green. The other one was rust red-brown. Like old bricks.” He swallows hard, swipes at his face again. “And they were friends. Like we are. Their auras… they’re old friends too.”

“Yunho, I’m so sorry.”

Yunho’s voice is hoarse. “Don’t treat me like a kid, Mingi, okay? I know why you’re asking. I doubt the King gives two fucks about it. The maggies have been getting away with shit like this for years.” He puts the mug down and manoeuvres himself carefully until he’s lying down. His leg always makes it harder to move around. Mingi wants to help him, but he doubts he’d be welcome right now. Yunho pulls the blankets up around himself. “If you let anything happen to you, we’re fucking over. I mean it.” His head’s turned away, half buried in the blankets. 

“Yunho -”

“And stop apologising. It’s boring.”

“Do you need me to stay here? While you get to sleep?”

“Just go. Send in one of the healers.”

He knows when he’s been dismissed. And it’s fair, maybe fairer than he deserves. No idea why Yunho chose to tell him, even though he knows that the King isn’t going to help. Maybe he just needs the maggies gone, however it comes about, or maybe, just maybe it’s the guard dog waking up, and despite all the unholy shit he’s dealing with, he’s trying his hardest to save Mingi from the rage eating him up from the inside out. 

Either way, Mingi knows them now. Now, he can finally do something useful.

_______________

  
  


Mingi and Soyeon track Jonghyuk down the next day, before the afternoon’s council session. He’s at the runesmithy, the big brick workshop just beyond the greenhouses where Yunho’s spent so much of his time studying. Mingi takes one look at the smithy - _rust red-brown, like old bricks_ \- and has to bend down to take a moment. Soyeon’s looking at him like he’s an idiot, until he’s good to pull himself together and go in.

The big main workroom of the smithy is busy with apprentices working at low desks, scribing wards and charms, making things with odds and ends of paper and wire. It’s a happy little hive of industry, full of busy bees, and it hits him like a blow to the gut because Yunho should be here, and he’s not. The smell of blood-ink, the _blood_ , sits in his throat and he can’t seem to swallow it away. 

Jonghyuk’s perched at a larger, higher desk at the head of the room. A couple of students are watching him demonstrate a brush technique, painting runes onto a sheet of cloth in shining black ink. When they head back to their desks, he looks up and catches Mingi’s eye, waves them over. 

The councilor’s got that friendly smile that means everything and nothing, it’s so much a part of how he works people. Mingi’s seen him visiting Yunho over the past couple of weeks to drop off rune exercises, seen how he encourages Yunho or offers comfort depending on what he sees, and how none of it ever scratches his slick, shiny surface.

“Hey there, kid. Are you thinking of coming back to the council this afternoon?” He’s starting to pack away his supplies. “The King’s getting antsy about his fourth chair missing so much. Seriously, sympathy’s only going to get you so far. We’re going to be talking Hollows reconstruction, and I bet you’re hungry for a knock-down fight with the General about that one.”

He can barely remember why he cares, it’s all so distant right now. He’s got room for maybe two things in his head at the moment; that image of Yunho, staring at the damn tree out his window and crying without even seeming to register what's happening; that, and the thought of those two maggies out there being best of friends. Twined together like life’s just a fucking tea party. 

Jonghyuk, eyeing him, passes on a few tasks to his apprentices and waves them through to his private rooms at the back of the smithy. “Why don’t you come on through, kids. I’m guessing this isn’t a social call.”

His workroom is darker, more functional, crammed with shelves of supplies. Large red glazed clay tiles lie across the desk, runes carved deep into the pale clay beneath.

Soyeon takes a closer look, touches the glaze. “These are from the Red Court, right? They’re roof tiles. Warded roof tiles?”

Jonghyuk leans back against the bench, arms folded, looking completely at ease. “Smart girl, yeah, that’s right. I’m just tinkering with the wards. Your father asked me to take a look. There’s a few bits and pieces not doing what he wants them to.”

“So it’s unwarded right now?”

His eyebrows raise. “Hold on, Your Highness, easy on the outrage. I’ve slapped some temps up. It’ll hold. It's pretty quiet there on the ghost front, anyway.” He looks at her pointedly, until she steps back from the tiles. “So, what can I do for you?”

Mingi’s got no interest in playing around, screw it. “We need your help. We want to find the men who attacked Yunho.”

Jonghyuk looks at him sidelong. “I thought the maggies were dealing with it.”

“You don’t believe that.”

His grin returns, a crooked acknowledgement. “Yeah, perhaps not. But that’s where we’re at. Besides, I didn’t think Yunho remembered enough to find them.”

“What if I told you he remembered their auras?”

His eyes widen, and he nods slowly. “Ah, I see, of course. And outside of Yunho, there’s no second sight in your little gang of friends, so that’s why you’re here, talking to uncle Jonghyuk. It all becomes clear. Interesting.”

“Cut the shit.” Soyeon’s voice is flat. “Are you going to help us or not? The Swarm won’t touch it, Mingi’s already burned our bridges with my father because he needs to keep the maggies onside, you’re all we’ve got. Like it or not.”

Jonghyuk looks unimpressed. “Back it up, Highness. Say I take what you know, I find these miscreants, say you get your names. What’ve you got planned, kids? What’s your next step?”

Mingi can tell he's deliberately goading her; he doesn’t expect her to have a plan. Yeah, he doesn’t know her at all. Mingi may not have any plan beyond the all-consuming drive to fix this right now, preferably with fiery death, but Soyeon...

Soyeon just shrugs. “It depends on what we’re trying to achieve. If we just want them out of Hivesong, then we offer them a bribe.”

“You’re speaking my language,” murmurs Jonghyuk.

”Hang on.” Mingi puts a hand on her arm. “Wait, so, what, you’re _rewarding_ them for what they did?”

“I didn’t finish. That’s just if you want them out of here before Yunho is on his feet.” He can see a little of her father in her now; the cold, calculating eyes of the bird of prey about to launch its dive. “If you want them punished, that’s different.”

_Punished_. Yeah, that feels better. That feels right. “I want them to be hurt. I want them in pain, like he is. And then I want them gone.”

“Whoa, kiddo, you might want to spell that out a little clearer to your friend here. ‘Gone’ covers a whole range of outcomes, and she’s her father’s daughter after all.”

“I’m not going to kill them.” She’s contemptuous, and for a moment - just a moment - Mingi’s disappointed. Yeah, maybe it’s a long moment, too. The thought of them dead. Yeah. That’s fucking something. Soyeon looks at him sternly. “I’m not, Mingi. But hurting them, yeah. I have some ideas.”

Jonghyuk’s frankly admiring. “I just bet you do.”

“Mingi and I can sort that out that later. All we need from you is their names. So, will you help?”

“Well, Mingi knows me. There’s got to be something in it for me.” Jonghyuk crosses his arms and leans back against the bench again. He seems to enjoy her reaction. “Yeah, that’s right, Your Highness, you heard me. Because, and let me make sure I have this right.” He raises a hand and counts off fingers for each point. “One, the King is already pissed off at you for asking. Two, the Swarm has refused to help. And three, I’m going to be making enemies amongst the maggies, who are the folks who ensure my bodily wellbeing on the daily. You can see why I’m not going to just skip right into this at full speed.” He turns to Mingi. “Don’t get me wrong, Yunho’s a nice kid, and it’s terrible what happened. But I’m not going to make powerful enemies just to help him sleep a little better at night.”

“Jonghyuk, come on, all we need are names. Nobody needs to know it comes from you.”

“Oh no, you mistake me. It’s greed talking, not cowardice. Well, not just cowardice.”

“What do we even have that you need?”

“Oh, I don’t know. How about votes? How about you give me a guarantee that you’ll back me up for five council votes when you’re back in the saddle, if I can find out their names? That could be fun.”

“Three.” It’s Soyeon, jumping in before he can even answer. “Five is crazy.”

“I don’t care,” says Mingi. “I just want this done. Five, three. We’re all good. Just do it.”

“Mingi, you are far too desperate for this. Should let the Princess here negotiate for you in future. Five it is. So, tell me, what do you know about these auras?”

  
  
  


The next time he goes back to the infirmary, Yunho just acts like the conversation never happened, so Mingi takes his lead. It’s a relief, actually. Less of a relief is the way that Yunho’s trying harder to keep his temper and be happy around everyone. He’s doing kind of a shitty job of it, and it’s clear he’s feeling guilty about not being cheerful enough, so there’s a heartbreaking determination to his smiles that makes Mingi want to hit something. It’s easier when he’s too busy concentrating on his rune exercises to remember to be nice, and he just lets go and snaps at Mingi when he needs to. It’s on one of those days when he tells Mingi to just go back to council, already, just get on with it.

His first session back, there’s a chill rising up off the King like he’s never felt before. It’s Secret Council grove levels of cold, but he’s too tired to care. 

Jonghyuk gets him to help throw a vote on the shape of the new lakeside lanterns which he could care less about, but he also gets dragged into a battle with the General over the decontamination of the Hollows, which he finds surprisingly satisfying. It’s something he believes in, he’s done his reading, and the General is a strong opponent who meets fire with fire. He comes out of the debate shaking and something closer to happy than he’s been in weeks. When he visits Yunho to tell him about it, he’s had a bad day with the runes and Mingi ends up swallowing the story instead. 

The next day, Jonghyuk gets his help voting against a charter for a new school for healers in Lowtown’s Ironmill district, and it wipes out all the happiness of the previous day. When he corners Jonghyuk to ask him why, turns out he’s received a hefty bribe from someone who wants the land for a new upmarket supper club. Jonghyuk just laughs at his reaction and keeps working on his latest little wire fidget. “Seriously, kid, who do you think pays for all those late night dinners I treat you to in Lowtown? I’m not getting all this shit on a council wage.”

At the end of the day’s session, the King signals for him to stay behind. He gets the feeling it’s not going to be to congratulate him. Maybe it would be wise to be scared, but he can’t work up the energy. Once everyone’s gone, the King takes his sweet time signing agreements and applying his seal to decision papers. Mingi leans back in his chair and studies the ceiling, wondering if he’s got time for a short, uncomfy nap. 

It wakes him up though, when the King makes a signal to the maggies on the door and they leave, closing the heavy council doors behind them. They just leave. That’s… weird. Disturbing.

King Jaehan comes out from behind the table to stand behind him, and Mingi swings his chair around to eyeball him. Just like that, he’s aware that while he's not the shortest, the King is inches taller, and far more solid. He’s also wearing a very functional-looking court sword and knife, and unlike Mingi, he’s very familiar with their use. He’s just standing there, regarding him, and Mingi scrambles through his understanding of Jaehan’s moods, trying to read his face.

All he can see now is that old familiar pitiless bird of prey, hovering. 

“How does it feel, I wonder, being the puppet of a fool like Park Jonghyuk?”

“What do you mean?”

The King leans past him and Mingi grips the arms of his chair to avoid reacting, but he’s just reaching for something on the table. It’s Jonghyuk’s figurine, another tiny dog made of bright silver loops of wire.

“The look on your face when you were voting against the Ironmill school was priceless. All the noble outrage of youth. I just hope you got a good trade for your support.” 

The King runs blunt fingers over the figurine, searching for something. His nails pick at the wire. Slowly, methodically, he starts to unwind the loops.

“You’re a little too squeaky clean and righteous to have accepted part of his bribe, I think. Failing that, he either has something incriminating on you, or he’s doing you a favour. You’re far too busy running around after your little friend to have time for anything incriminating. So, are you going to tell me about the favour? Was it worth it?”

“Not yet.” Fatigue makes him honest. “But it will be.”

“I wonder. Mingi, you’ve got an endearing ability to back the wrong horse. It’s sweetly predictable. Jonghyuk’s already told me what you’ve asked him to do for you.”

Mingi closes his eyes. Jonghyuk, you absolute piece of shit. He must have gone straight to the King and been laughing all the way there. Was he even planning to help them, ever?

The dog’s already half unraveled in the King’s hands, just the head and front paws left. “I must say, I was disappointed to hear it after you’d already asked for my help. I’ve warned you about what happens if you choose loyalty to others over your duty to me.”

Mingi’s got so little left to lose that he finds himself answering back. “You told me once, remember? When I’m in, I’m all in. This is it. I’m in. If Jonghyuk can still find those names, and you can’t act, I will.” It’s not meant to sound like a threat. It probably does. “I mean, I get why you don’t want to go after the maggies. I know it’s tricky. And you can punish me too.” He thinks briefly of Yunho’s threat if anything happens to him, puts it firmly out of his mind. “Just let me do this first.”

“And what were you hoping would happen, if you learn their names?”

He’s so sick of this question. Sick of thinking of those best buddies out there, Old Brick and Seaweed Soup, walking around free and happy. “I want them to be fucking _terrified_ like he was, I want them not knowing what’s happening, not knowing if they’re getting out of this alive. I want them hurting.” Every damn night he thinks about Yunho going through that, in the quietest hours when the worst thoughts come and sit with him and keep him close company. “And I don’t want there to be any chance he’ll ever have to see them again.”

There’s something hypnotic about watching the last of the little metal dog unwind under those relentless hands. Paws, ears, muzzle… and gone. The King tosses the bent scraps of wire back onto the table.

“You’re an admirable friend. Misguided, but loyal. Unfortunately, the same qualities that make you such a fine friend make you a waste of space on my council. You’re impulsive, emotional, and tediously stubborn.”

“You’re the one who wanted the voice of youth on your council, Your Majesty. You knew what you were getting.”

“I did, indeed. And on that score, you don’t disappoint. You’re predictable, at least.”

“So what, that’s stalemate? You’ve told Jonghyuk not to give me their names?” He has no idea where to go with this next, just that he’s not giving up until it’s sorted. 

“Not at all. It’s just that you no longer need them.” The King’s regarding him with something that might almost be a smile. It is, he’s smiling. It doesn’t even begin to touch the coldness in his eyes. “Rather than let you run roughshod over my alliance with the Magpies, I’ve elected to act. Quietly. Prudently. And very, very finally. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed in the actions I’ve taken.”

“Finally.” Oh, great fucking hells. _Finally_. He looks at the King’s mild, smiling face, as implacable as a bear trap, and there is no room for mistakes about his meaning. No room at all. A burst of fierce happiness wars with a rising flood of guilt and dismay. They hurt Yunho, and now they’re dead. Because he wanted it to happen.

They’re _dead_. That’s good, right? 

“Sometimes you have to do things that might make you feel less than clean. But you do them for friendship. You do them for love. To keep people safe. Because there’s only one way to make sure.” He reaches out and clasps Mingi’s shoulder in a companionable way, gives him a little shake. “Really, Councilor, I thought you’d be grateful. What do you have to say?”

Mingi holds himself still as he can, trying not to flinch away. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

King Jaehan pulls a small, familiar-looking bottle from his pocket to show him. It’s empty, but it’s already labeled and dated. “I had their executioner create a memento for the library. Jonghyuk’s still working on the pollen, but when it’s complete, perhaps you’d like to see if it lives up to your own plans for them?”

He shakes his head, wordless. Everything he’s eaten today is churning in his stomach.

“It can wait, then.” The King drops the bottle back into his pocket. “Oh, and Mingi? If you ever go behind my back like that again, I’ll feed you to the Mare. She’s been asking.”

  
  


Somehow he makes his way out of the council rooms. He’s not sure where he’s going at first, just walking, fast. It’s evening; the corridors around the dining halls are full of people going to dinner, happy faces, conversations. The confusion of noise and movement swirls around him. There are maggies on guard at the doors, and their black and white bird beaks swing his way as he passes. It feels like they know what he did, what he was a part of.

It gets quieter the further away he gets, finding his way upstairs, along halls, down to the south wing by instinct. Outside the long windows, the sun is setting over the dark bulk of the Wraithwild and the birds are clamouring in the trees. He ends up at the infirmary with little idea of how he got there, just that he’s leaning against the cool wood of the door for a moment. A long moment. It feels good on his face.

The healer on duty in the front rooms smiles as he comes in. He knows them all so well by now, he just heads on through to Yunho’s room. 

Yunho’s staring at one of Jonghyuk’s flower buds with an intense concentration that makes Mingi’s heart hurt. He wonders if he’s actually going to be sick if it explodes, and he stands waiting, coiled like a spring inside, for the unraveling. 

Nothing happens. Eventually Yunho tosses it away onto the window ledge with a disgusted noise. “I got so sick of the kids’ work, I begged Master Park until he brought in the hard stuff. Still can’t fucking do it.”

“It didn’t explode,” he says faintly. “That's good, right?”

“It’s like I’ve got the opposite problem from before. Back then I had too much push on it. Now, I can’t get enough behind it to even start. I’ve got the energy, my aura’s fine, it’s just stuck. I can’t make it go anywhere or do anything.”

Yunho’s aura-sight flares, restless, and it’s like he finally registers that Mingi’s there. “Why are you here, anyway? You don’t normally come over after council. Stick around, my dad’s bringing dinner soon, there’ll be enough for you. It’s like he thinks I’ll get better faster if he feeds me three times the normal amount of food.”

Mingi pulls the chair over to the bedside. “Yunho, there’s news. I’m just going to tell you, you don’t need to say anything, okay?” He stares at Yunho's hands resting on the blanket, not wanting to see the look on his face when he tells him. He’s such a coward these days. “They’re gone, the guys who attacked you. You’re not going to run into them. They’re - they’re not in Hivesong anymore.”

Watching the reaction in Yunho’s hands is almost as painful as seeing whatever’s on his face. One hand grips the other, as if for comfort, knuckles a painful white. Mingi closes his eyes. He wants to be anywhere but here, doing this. It’s great news, so why does he feel so bad?

“You found them?”

“Yeah, we found them. And they’re gone.”

A warm hand closes around his own. He can hear Yunho’s shaky breath, snuffling away tears. “Thank you. Sorry, I don't know why I’m crying. That’s - that’s a lot.”

They sit like that for a while.

Mingi feels both light and heavy at the same time, empty of thought and full of things he can’t say and doesn't want to think about. Yunho’s hand in his now, warm and scarred. The bottle for memories and the look on the King’s face. 

What he wants, more than anything… is just to go back. Not just before Yunho got hurt, but before council, before his parents left for the Hollows, just _before_. And to curl up like a little kid in that place and never come out.

He lets himself fall forwards, mindful of Yunho’s leg, curling over the place where their hands join. Yunho’s other hand comes up to rest on his head and he lets the warmth travel through his skull and soothe him. He’s just so fucking tired. Of everything.

  
  


He wakes up to the scent of fried chicken and the sound of Yunho trying to eat stealthily just overhead. His neck and shoulders pop and twinge as he stretches, and he makes an incoherent noise, yawning.

Outside the window, everything is dark and the crescent moon is sailing through heavy banks of clouds over Yunho’s tree. 

Yunho waves a drumstick at him as he sits up. “I saved you some food, but you’d better hurry up.”

The remains of dinner wrappers and bowls are scattered across the bed. There’s fried chicken, mostly just bones now, as well as spicy sweet potato, steamed fish in parcels of leaves and a cold melon salad. Yunho’s dad likes to cook, and the chicken is a family specialty he hasn’t had in too long.

He picks through the packet of chicken with increasing dismay. “What the hells, you ate all the drumsticks.”

Yunho’s still gnawing on the last one, and he answers around a mouthful of chicken. “Yeah, that’s what you get for falling asleep on my lap like a giant drooling baby.” He tosses the bone into the pile, raises his eyebrows as if to say, what’re you gonna do about it?

Mingi snags second prize, the biggest chunk of caramelised chilli sweet potato. “Just paying you back for First Nectar, my dribbling buddy.” He lets his other hand fall to brush the pocket where he keeps the little red paper and wire butterfly, like a lucky charm.

“What? I never _dribbled_.”

“You not only dribbled, you snored, too. Wait, I can do an impression.” 

Yunho points a greasy finger at him, laughing. “Fuck off, no singing and no impressions. My bed, my rules.”

Mingi grins and helps himself to food, what’s left of it. And for a while, as the night settles peaceful around their bickering and he relishes the familiar sweet-sour taste of Yunho’s dad’s cooking, everything feels… okay.


	5. Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: includes a dissociative episode and another offscreen death (no MCD).

The first bright green buds are finally starting to show on the tree outside Yunho’s window, the day he finally gets out of the infirmary. Mingi waits, arms full of boxes of runecrafting gear, while Yunho thanks the healers with hugs and gifts.

He’s on crutches, still can’t go far or stand for long. On the walk back to their rooms, his whole body flinches in response to the unpredictable bustle and noise of Hivesong around him, and Mingi fights an urge to beat the shit out of everyone who watches him pass like they’ve got something to say about it. He limps past the maggies on guard with a rigid determination that leaves him shaking by the time they get home.

Mingi starts going back to have a meal with the Jeongs once a week, when he doesn’t have a late council session. At first he feels like an overgrown pain in the ass crashing their tea table, but he’d forgotten how they always make him feel like he’s just an extra part of their extended family, an extra pair of hands to help out, an extra voice in the playful arguments over dinner.

He’s there the night that Yunho picks up his guitar again for the first time. He hasn’t been playing since that day, when the guitar got left behind at the armory, but he brings it out with him that night when they go out onto the balcony. It’s a cool, clear night. Spring’s on the way. Yunho sits the guitar on his lap and starts to tune it like it’s just a small, usual thing, but Mingi’s heart is somewhere up around his throat with a mix of pain and happiness. 

When he finally gets it sounding right, he starts to play the melody of an old pair dance song. They danced to it at his oath-giving, he remembers. His oath-giving, hells.

 _You should have stuck to poetry_. Yeah, no shit.

“I’m going to talk to my parents about going to First Nectar.” Yunho’s head stays down, his playing hesitant but growing more confident as he picks his way through the song.

A thousand protests rise on Mingi’s tongue, and he closes his mouth on them firmly. A crowd, really? Maggies on the doors? Alcohol? _Dancing?_

“Sounds like fun,” he says.

“That’s what I thought.” Yunho flicks a look at him, grins. “Your face, though.”

He picks the easiest thing. “You’re just going to get pissed off you can’t dance.”

“Yeah, but I’d rather be pissed off than scared. I’m getting really sick of being scared.” 

He’s barely left their rooms since he got home, just concentrated on the lessons Jonghyuk brings him. Mingi thought that was a good thing, but maybe it’s starting to chafe. Yunho’s hands still on the guitar and he looks at Mingi, sidelong.

“Besides, I can watch you dance. Or, how about this? This year, you dance for both of us. Next year, we dance together.” 

They always dance together, it’s just something they do. They look good together and he’s sol and Yunho’s luna and it’s as normal as breathing.

But something about the way he says it. His steady, hopeful gaze, holding Mingi’s a moment too long, a touch of colour in his face too much for the cool evening air. 

Mingi swallows his heart back down and turns away to scan the skies. Maybe he can look for the evening star, okay yes, that’s what he’s doing. Where the hells even is it?

His head is stuffed full with thoughts, too big to deal with. He’s killed people. He’s as good as killed two people, that’s all on him. He shouldn’t think about Yunho like that anymore, even though he almost died too, and doesn’t that change things? He can’t make it all balance, the bad is just too bad now. But Yunho getting hurt, that’s so big that it feels like the balance is shifting underneath him somehow.

He realises he hasn’t answered Yunho’s question, but it’s too late, he’s started back up with the guitar. 

Mingi’s sick and tired of being scared too, he’s over it. He pulls on his court face, which is bright and fearless and works to hide just about anything you need it to. “The theme’s Sunrise,” he says. “I’ve got this idea already for what I want to wear.”

Yunho’s equal parts scathing and fond. “You’re not going as the sun, Mingi.”

Well, that truly _had_ been his idea. Embarrassing. “What? Why?”

“What am I going to go as, if you’re the actual sun? Do you always have to be the shiniest thing in the room? No, don’t answer.”

He laughs at that, leaning his head back against the wall. “Got any better ideas? 

“How about clouds?” he asks. Mingi’s about to say something very bitchy, until he goes on. “Not us looking like clouds, dumbass, just those soft cloud colours you get at sunrise. Peach, pale purple, white gold. That blue that’s so light it’s almost silver.”

Actually, it kind of works. He can almost see it. It’s not his usual style, it’s too understated and tasteful by far, but there’s something simple about it that actually appeals. Maybe he’s growing up? Or maybe it’s just the thought that if everyone else comes in shiny gold, he’s going to stand out. 

“White, with a signature colour each? Something clean and tailored. Elegant.” 

The thought of surprising people simply by being tasteful for a change makes him smile, genuinely this time.

“But fun, though?” Yunho shrugs apologetically. “I mean, it’s my first time back out there. I don’t want it to be all - serious. I want to have some fun with it. Sorry, that sounds stupid.”

“No, I’ve got you covered. I’ve got an idea.” Mingi holds up a finger before Yunho can stop him. “It’s a _good_ idea. Shut up. You’ll like it.”

  
  
At least, he really hopes he’ll like it. He’s banking on the look he read on Yunho’s face when Mingi talked about hanging out with Jonghyuk in the Lowtown markets. Kind of wistful, like he wanted to go with them. That night, when they’ve taken turns in Yunho’s room changing into their sunrise finery - Mingi in a pale silvery blue, Yunho in pale creamy peach like the inside of a seashell - he brandishes the bag with his haul and upends it onto the table.

The finest party fancies the Dock Hill markets have to offer. The Lakeside tends towards haut glamours, artistic statements that may or may not even look good - they’re meant to challenge, to be artfully ironic, to provoke. Dock Hill fancies are just cute fun. 

He’s tried to match their colours as best he can, or at least aim for a pale gold that’ll tone in. There are fancies that will make their skin catch the light, glitter and shine. Fancies to run like strings of seed jewels through their hair; pink morganite, tourmaline, aquamarine and amethyst. Tiny golden suns that radiate a soft light and should last until the actual sun rises again. 

Yunho holds up the strings of jewels with a tickled look of pleasure. “These are great!” He applies one of the suns to his cheek before Mingi can stop him, and he doesn’t have the heart to tell him they were supposed to be worn on the backs of their hands. Kind of wants to kiss him stupid. Nothing new there. Just one more dumb impulse to resist while his brain screams at him about balance.

Yunho hands Mingi the fancy that paints a faint flush of sparkling almost-not-there pink across the wearer’s cheekbones. “I really don’t need any help blushing, seriously, I think this one’s for you.”

“Let’s face it, it’s fake shame or nothing.” He applies it with a flourish. When he turns to Yunho in lieu of a mirror, his appreciative gaze shifts across Mingi’s face, eyes bright like stars and a small smile just tucking up the corners of his mouth. Mingi fixes his own attention firmly on the golden sun on Yunho’s cheek and thanks the gods he’s now got a disguise for his own treacherous blush.

“Oh, hey, I got something for you, too.” Yunho reaches into the drawer by his bed and pulls out two flowers, their stems wrapped with strips of rune paper. He hands one to Mingi and busies himself tucking the other through his own buttonhole.

Mingi’s flower is the same colour as his shirt, just a shade darker, a pale blue-grey that shades deeper at its heart. There’s something about the look of it that seems weirdly familiar. It’s almost like a rose, but the petals are waxier and sharper and it smells somehow bright, like lemon and spice.

“This is - wait.” He’s just never seen it open and blooming before. Only the tightly closed bud, and the scatter of exploded colour.

“The petals of success.” Yunho ducks his head, shy and proud all at once, smiling so much his round cheeks are pink with it. “Yeah, I did it. At last. Took me long enough.”

Mingi busies himself with threading the stem through his buttonhole, blinking hard. “That’s great! They look great.” It takes him a moment before he’s ready to look up again. He pulls his gold filigree mask on first. It’s a great cover for all those inconvenient emotions. 

When they finally head out, they’re the perfect mix of style and glitter. Yunho freezes a little, the first maggies they run into, but Mingi waits with him as the crowd sweeps past them and eventually he’s good to move on. 

The glasshouses are overheated and humid inside, full of noise and people. He was right about gold being the theme of the night; it’s like walking into a hot, sweaty treasure house. They look so good, the two of them, cool and icy pale and maybe even mysterious, despite the sparkles? Please gods, aloof and mysterious, he’s never been able to pull that look off before. Should probably stop smiling, then. He’s got the world’s least aloof and mysterious face, when he’s actually happy.

Yunho swats at the back of his leg with one of his crutches. “Can we sit? Sorry, I just need a moment.” Under the gilt glamour highlighting his face he’s pale and clammy. _Shitballs_. Worst friend. Mingi finds them a couple of chairs at one end of the dancing floor. Yunho tucks his crutches away behind the chairs and collapses into one of them.

“Is your leg okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” He’s looking around him with wide, worried dark eyes. “It’s just the people. It’s a lot.”

“How about the aura thing, looking at that, would that help?”

“If I use aura-sight here it’s gonna be blinding. There’s way too much going on.”

“What if it’s just my hand? You know, like before?” He holds out his palm, tentatively. “Like, if you just focus on that?”

It’s not an excuse. _It’s not an excuse._ He’s trying to help. Genuinely.

He’s simultaneously ashamed and stupidly happy when Yunho holds his hand in a tight, panicky grip. Mingi feels himself trying to breathe slower along with him, willing him to be okay. He’s staring downwards, so Mingi doesn’t get to see that flare of silver in his eyes, but he can feel the tension slowly unwinding in him as his fingers relax. To tell the truth, he’s kind of mesmerized by the sight of their joined hands, too. Yunho’s used a fancy to paint his nails the palest shade of gold.

“Should I talk? Is it going to help if I just talk at you, or should I shut up?”

Yunho flexes long fingers in his. He’s still not looking up at all. “Got a funny Jitae story? Those are always good.”

“Jitae’s not on the council anymore.” And it wasn’t really a funny story, getting him kicked off. Even if he was an asshole.

“Huh. You don’t really talk about council much, anymore. You used to, all the time. Is it… it’s okay, right? Everything’s going okay?”

The King wants to feed me to his house-god. The Swarm want me to help them get rid of the King. Jonghyuk’s screwing over anyone in his path to make money. Can’t remember the last time I actually wrote a poem. But wait, no. There is something good. 

“The Hollows,” he says. “They’re going to fix up the Hollows. There are contract runesmiths coming in from Rope-of-Stars.” It’s happening because of him, in part, at least. Because he argued for it, and the General gave in at last. “We’re going to be able to bring my parents back.”

“Mingi, that’s so good! I’m really happy for you.” He looks up at last, looking a little more relaxed. He’s losing the anxious tension around his eyes.

“Yeah, me too.” He’ll be able to visit them, tell them about stuff. Well, the good stuff, anyway.

The music starts up then, with a crash of strings, and Yunho’s fingers startle under his. The dancers start to line up for the first dance.

“Do you want to go dance?” Yunho has to raise his voice to be heard over the music and the chatter of the dancers. 

“I’m good. Maybe later.” Yunho hasn’t taken his hand out of Mingi’s yet; maybe he just hasn’t noticed.

“Hey, are they going to make you drink the royal nectar this time? Now you’re a councilor, I thought maybe you’d have to. They always get it, right?”

“Nah, apparently I’m too young. I get a free pass.” No royally-induced pain for him, not this year, anyway. It’s the one time his age has been useful for something. He doesn’t want King Jaehan getting anywhere near his worst fears, even if he is the cause of most of them.

“I’m glad. It would have been a pain in the ass carrying you home after, on crutches and all.” He says it with a smile, but Mingi wonders. It’s the not quite casual way he brings it up; something Mingi hadn’t quite understood before just clicks into place, suddenly. Yunho was worried about him. That’s why he’s here tonight, to look out for him. His ever watchful guard dog.

If anyone ever deserved a night off looking after his sorry ass, it’s Yunho.

Mingi waves his free hand at a passing server and collects two beakers of nectar from his tray; just the regular stuff, and it’s got a kick, yeah, but it won’t give you anything worse than a headache.

“Wanna play our own memory game?” The way Yunho lights up at the word ‘game’ makes him grin. Jeong Yunho, sucker for a challenge. “Our rules, our themes. No pain, none of that shit. Just the good times.”

“How does it work?”

“We take turns choosing a memory, if the other person can’t remember and tell you about it, they lose and they have to drink. I’ll start you off.” He thinks for a moment, but there’s really only one choice. “First time you met me.”

“Wait, you said good times?”

“Ha, yeah, fuck off. Best day of your life but oh well, just drink if you can’t remember it.”

It’s pretty much burned into his memory, because he wrote a poem about it a month or two later, and that always makes things stick for him.

 _Bugger-all use as a soldier but at least he’s good with numbers_ had been his parents’ thinking, when they scraped together all their money so he could sit the civil service exam at twelve years old. His freakishly high scores for debate and poetry got him sent to the Lakesider school where he’d been getting into fight after fight with his big mouth before crossing paths with Yunho that day.

Yunho, who’s just giving him skeptical eyebrows, though he’s smiling along with it. “Best day of my life, yeah. I gave you a rice cake and you threw it at my head. You could tell it was gonna be an amazing friendship.”

Mingi had been so sure the rich kid with the pretty eyes had been setting him up for some sort of joke with his friends. Probably dropped the rice cake on the floor or spat on it and was just waiting for him to eat it so they could laugh at him. Instead, after plucking it out of the air just before it hit him - annoying and impressing Mingi in equal doses - pretty eyes had just popped the rice cake into his mouth with a shrug.

Mingi leans over and knocks his beaker against Yunho’s. “You get to make _me_ take a drink if you remember the first thing I said to you.”

“The first thing you said?” Yunho’s way back in thought now, gone far away from the party. Mingi absolutely does _not_ use it as an excuse to watch his dreamy expression without worrying about being caught staring. 

Yunho’s playing with Mingi’s fingers absently while he thinks, and he taps a triumphant rhythm on his hand when he remembers. “You said, _Next time it’s not going to be a rice cake, dumbass!_ And you gave me the shittiest look down your nose, like you were king of the school already, and you said, _Next time I’m gonna make you eat my words!”_

Mingi’s pretty sure he used something worse than dumbass, but it’s close enough. He tips back the nectar, screw the rules, and closes his eyes to enjoy the sweet burn all the way down.

Thanks to the poem, he still remembers Yunho’s reply, too. Instead of telling the masters or yelling at him or hitting him, the standard responses of the other Lakesiders when he gave them shit, Yunho had laughed like they were sharing some sort of joke. _Aren’t you supposed to make me eat my own words?_ And Mingi, still weirded out by the fact that the rice cake hadn’t been a trick, had answered, _Yeah, but mine taste better!_

It’s a miracle, this friendship. Who the hells else would have stuck with him for this long. He licks the last taste of nectar off his lips, and wonders if he can get away with one more. “Okay, your turn, do your worst.”

Yunho’s gaze drops fractionally; it’s just a blink, and back up to meet his eyes, but it stops Mingi’s heart for a second. Were you looking at my mouth? What _was_ that?

Yunho pulls his hand back from Mingi’s, looking out at the dancers now, as if he’s thinking it over. “Okay. How about… Your first kiss.”

Mingi laughs. “Easy, but it wasn’t exactly good times. It was Changbin. He said he needed to practice kissing so he could use it in his Embernight poem. Sounds like a line, right? But he was serious. He said later he thought I’d have all sorts of experience and he was completely disappointed. Apparently I was the worst kisser ever. He had to go kiss a couple of other people to get it right for the poem.” He’s grinning at the memory of his own embarrassment, but Yunho doesn’t join in. “Okay, back at you, then. First kiss.”

After a long frozen pause, Yunho raises his nectar and drinks it in one long gulp.

“What, you don’t remember?”

“Can't talk about it if it hasn’t happened.” He’s gone whatever the shade is beyond happy Yunho pink. “At least I know not to ask you to practice with me. No way I want to learn from the worst kisser ever.”

 _I got better since then._ The words are burning on his tongue when there’s a flash of bright orange and Minnie bounces over to throw herself into the empty chair beside him.

“Yunho, can I borrow the weasel?”

She holds out her hands to him and makes as if to drag him onto the dance floor. 

“No,” he says, with a quick look back at Yunho. “No, I’m good. Go find someone else.”

“Go. Dance. Seriously.” Yunho waves them away, smiling. “Remember, you have to dance for both of us tonight.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mingi, you’ve basically been dancing in your chair this whole time, I know you want to go. I’m okay. I miss it, but we’ll just dance twice as much this time next year.” 

He says it lightly, but Mingi finds himself checking his face for any sign of what he thought he’d seen before, on the balcony. Like it’s a promise of some kind. 

He lets Minnie pull him out to the floor and they find their way into the line for the next dance, a slow, regal mistral. He knows the sol well. It’s an old standard that tends to get dragged out at every major festival to please the old-timers. Minnie’s luna, so they’ll work well enough together. He bows over her hand and they start the slow circling move that begins the dance.

She’s great, but she’s not Yunho and his heart’s not in it. When she catches him glancing back across the floor she grabs his chin with her hand and swivels him to face her. “Don’t you want him to see you having a good time?”“I can’t help it, I still feel guilty dancing when he can’t. It just feels like… too much. All the things that got taken away from him.”

“Hey, he’s okay, he’s healing. He’s doing well.” She’s peering at him, worried. “He’s strong, you know?”

His eyes find Yunho again. “I know, it’s just. I can’t stop thinking about it, somedays.”

“I get it. You care about him a lot, huh.” 

“Yeah.” He forces his gaze away, back to Minnie. “We all do, right? He’s the best. Don’t tell him I said that. He gets enough people loving on him.”

She chooses her next words with care. “Do you ever think of telling him how you feel?”

“What do you mean?”

She just raises her eyebrows and waits him out. She’s so expressive, even when she’s saying nothing. How does she even know? How the fuck did he give himself away? Yeah, alright, maybe he watches him a little too much. Oh gods, if she can tell, does that mean Yunho can too?

“What about you, did you ever ask him out?” He sounds defensive, even to himself.

“Irrelevant. Stop changing the subject.”

“I can’t. Minnie, I can’t tell him.” It’s clearly impossible. He badly wants to explain the balance to her so that she gets why it’s impossible, but then he’d have to tell her about the dead maggies, and he just can’t do it. 

“Why can’t you tell him? I think he’d like to hear it.”

“Did he say something? About me?” _About me and him?_

“Not really, nothing specific. He misses you, but I think he worries that he’s too clingy. He knows how much you care about the work you’re doing, and he thinks he takes up too much of your time. I think he’d like to know he’s important too.”

“That’s just stupid. How can he not know he’s important?” How can he not know that he’s basically _everything_?

“Mingi, you’re really good at hiding stuff. You joke about everything. It’s really hard to tell where you stand on anything. To be honest, I wasn’t even sure you _did_ like him like that, until you said so just now.” She smirks at him. Well, fuck. “He knows you’ve been a bit weird with him lately, he just doesn’t know why. He’s probably making all the wrong guesses.”

Ah, Yunho. Gods. Weird around him, yeah. He lets out a shaky breath and leans down to rest his head on hers. “Minnie, there’s just so much I can’t tell him. So many really bad secrets.”

“I know.” Her voice is gentle. “But you can tell him this. This won’t hurt him, or you. I promise.”

“How do you know that?”

“Okay, I don’t. But I just think… life’s too short not to even give him the choice. For what it’s worth, personally, I know he’s got a way of letting you down gently, if the answer’s no. It hasn’t wrecked our friendship. But oh, Mingi...” She looks downright mischievous. “What if the answer’s yes?”

The breath goes out of him in a rush. Yunho’s chatting to Jonghyuk now, predictably dressed all in the shiniest gold. He’s making Yunho laugh; his face is bright, so bright and beautiful with those stupid cheap party fancies lighting him up like sun on water. Mingi wants, he wants so _badly_ to make Yunho’s whole world nothing but good times. 

But there’s no way to do that, not really, not for him and not for anyone. Yunho almost died, and for what? For nothing. There is no balance, never has been. Sometimes things just happen.

“Yes?” she asks, teasing. “You’ll say something?”

What if the answer’s _yes_. “Okay. Yeah. Okay, I’ll talk to him. Tonight.” It’s like he’s taking that jump off the ledge over the lake after all. Weightless and nauseous and dizzy and bracing himself already for the pain of landing.

Minnie pats his cheek. “Good on you, braveheart.”

“Mind if I interrupt?” It’s Jonghyuk, come over to join them as the dance comes to a slow, sweeping end. “Mingi, you got a moment?”

“Sure,” he says. Shutting away all the unsafe thoughts, now. He smiles at Jonghyuk like he’s at a party and everything’s just as fine as a box of birds. “What’s up?”

“They have all the timing of a bad joke, but we’ve just heard that those contractors from Rope-of-Stars are arriving early, and by early I mean tomorrow. I need you to come with me and take a look through those specifications, now. We need to be ready or they’re going to clean us out before we even get started.”

“What, _now_?” He gestures around them at the party in full swing. “It’s First Nectar, come on, Jonghyuk.”

“And you got all dressed up nice to go dancing, yeah, I know, me too! How do you think I feel putting all this to waste?” He waves a hand at the spiky sunrays rising from his golden mask, the glittering suit. “There’ll be other nights and other parties. Come on, let’s ride.”

Yunho. He has to talk to Yunho. “Ten minutes. I swear. Just give me ten.”

“Mingi, I’m starting to think you’re having second thoughts about being on council. It waits for nobody. Last time I’m asking. Come on.”

“You go,” says Minnie. “I’ll look after him.” She nods back to where Yunho’s helping himself to a beaker of nectar from a passing servant, filigree mask pushed back on top of his head so that his peach hair corkscrews in multiple directions. Glowing sun lighting up one cheek. “We’ll be fine.”

“Tell him I’ll be back later. We’ll be back later, right?”

“Faster we get started, the sooner we can get our dancing shoes back on.”

He follows Jonghyuk away through the glasshouses, feeling an embarrassing stab of relief that he doesn’t have to talk to Yunho just yet. _Song Mingi, you’re a sadass coward who deserves to be doing paperwork on party night._

Jonghyuk’s got all the papers back in his rooms, just down the hall from Mingi’s rooms, so they head there to work. 

He’s glad he hasn’t had more than one taste of nectar, because otherwise it would make no sense whatsoever. He’s had to understand more finances and numbers in the past year than all the rest of his life combined, and it still makes his head spin. Trusting Jonghyuk’s explanations about anything financial feels shady, too.

He’s been slowing gradually, rereading clauses multiple times and still getting confused when Jonghyuk calls a break. Mingi throws the papers onto the table gratefully and stands up to stretch. Jonghyuk’s leather couch is soft as butter but he’s been sinking into it gradually like a pool of soft sand. He’d kinda like to vanish down the back of it and just have a nap in the dark and quiet.

When he wanders outside onto the balcony, he can see the party lights over through the trees. He takes the flower from his buttonhole and twirls it in his fingers. The smell’s already fading and he has to chase the faint scent still buried in the heart of it.

“Your boy’s doing well,” says Jonghyuk, joining him. “Full credit to him, I thought he might throw it in before he got that flower bud working.”

“You don’t know him very well, then.”

“Maybe not. For someone who smiles so damn much, he’s got a lot of steel in him.”

Mingi twists the flower gently in his fingers. There’s something he needs to know, and it feels like as good a time as any to ask. “Why’d you go to the King with those names, anyway?”

Jonghyuk leans on the balcony beside him. “You’re not going to believe me, kid, but I did that for you. You and your little friends. No, listen. What would have happened if I’d told you their names?”

“The maggies wouldn’t have died, for one.”

“And that bothers you? Really? Shitheads like that, with what they did? I’d be more bothered by the things that matter here.”

“Like what?”

“Like making an enemy of Jaehan. He was going to find out you were asking around, regardless. You think Soyeon’s going to be able to take action against two maggies and it not come back to his ears? You’d better believe you’re in a better place with him finding out about it and taking care of it quietly, than if he’d had to step in and clean up after. Let’s just say you’d probably be taking up that seat in the secret council about now, rather than lounging around on a balcony in your party threads. Better them than you, remember that.”

“Better them than me. What, and better me than you?”

“Yes! If it comes to that. And that shouldn’t surprise you. Not by this stage.”

“Sorry, but that is a shithouse way to live your life. No wonder you don’t have any friends.”

“Yeah, if I had any friends I’d just be worried about them stabbing me in the back. Or getting hurt,” he adds pointedly. “Who needs the worry, huh?”

“But who looks after you if you get hurt?”

“That’s why I’m one step ahead of everything, with a nice soft cushion of money to fall back on. Nobody to worry about but me. You want to survive this year, Mingi? Keep that in mind.”

“How the hells is it fair that joining the council is a death sentence?”

“How have you got to this age expecting life to be _fair_? Wake up, Mingi. It wasn’t fair when the maggies beat the shit out of Yunho. It wasn’t fair when Jaehan tortured them and killed them for it and got off on harvesting his little bottle of memories. Just - get over this need for life to be pretty and play by the rules. I’ll tell you now, as long as Jaehan’s at the top, you can forget about fair.”

For once, he’s utterly serious. There’s no smirk, no cynical eyebrows, just a dead and leaden certainty that makes Mingi cold all over. 

“I can’t make it any plainer. And for what it’s worth, kid… now you know why I voted against you. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy, let alone a friend.” And there’s the ghost of the smirk, back again. “If, you know, I _had_ any friends.”

The distant sound of the musicians at the party skirls around them, faint in the air. Mingi threads the flower - _petals of success_ \- back through his buttonhole. “How about we finish up this paperwork.” He needs to be back at the party. He needs it so badly he’s almost ready to climb over the balcony and down the side of the building to get there. He needs the sweaty heat of people and the crash of the sound around him and he needs to see the way Yunho smiles and the stupid sun shining on his cheek and he _needs_. He needs to be anywhere but here.

“You know what? I can finish up here.” Jonghyuk scrubs a hand across his face. “You go. Have fun. 

He doesn’t need to be told twice. By the time he hits the glasshouses he’s practically at a run, weaving through the crowds at pace. The crowds are starting to slow, to get messier already. The dancing is looser, the music wilder. The first nectar casualties are lounging against walls, with one or two lying in the flower beds. Everywhere he looks is gold, in all its forms. He’s suddenly so happy he didn’t dress as the sun. 

Yunho’s not by the main dance floor anymore. He’s looking out for the sunrise cloud colours, but he finds Soyeon first. She’s dressed as the dawn star, a warrior in silver amongst the gold. She’s sitting beside the General, who’s asleep on the bench next to her, probably doped up with royal nectar. She springs to her feet when she sees Mingi.

“Where were you?”

“What do you mean, I had business, I was with Jonghyuk.” He’s already getting the feeling from her face. He’s missed something.

“Get back to the Jeongs’ rooms. They need you there.”

“What the fuck?” He can see it in her eyes, even before she says it. Yunho. Something’s happened to Yunho. If it’s the maggies…

“Someone gave him a slug of royal nectar. We don’t know who, or how. He’s still out of it. Go, you need to go before he wakes up.”

He slaps her on the shoulder by way of thanks, turns back as he’s leaving. “Soyeon, what are the memories this time, what’s the theme?” He thinks he can guess, he just doesn’t want to be right.

“It’s my father,” she says, her tired tone so full of hatred. “What is it ever?”

Mingi takes off again through the crowd. Shoulders his way past drunken dancers, spinning off party goers, mind a white blur of noise. Thinking about memories of pain. Yunho and pain.

He knocks on the Jeongs’ door, sweaty and out of breath, no real memory of getting there. Yunho’s father opens the door and brings him inside. 

“He’s still out to it.”

Yunho’s tucked up on the couch where Mingi’s spent so many nights of his life, still in his party clothes, sun charm glowing faintly on his cheek.

Mingi sits down on the floor beside him. He looks just like he’s asleep, but they’ve all seen royal nectar in action. It’s deceptive. He’s not sleeping… he’s remembering.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

“Minnie said you had work.” There’s no accusation in his tone, it’s just matter of fact. Yunho’s father is busy lighting a pot-spell under a pot of something hot, smells like apple tea. Just like Yunho, he’s a fidgeter, needs to be doing stuff. “She found me when it happened, helped me get him back up here. We knew he wouldn’t want to be out there, when he wakes up.”

“Did she know how it happened? He didn’t… it wasn’t on purpose, right?” He knows as soon as he asks. There’s no way.

“We don’t know. She’s trying to find out now. They’re usually so careful with it. It’s not like they make enough of it to just splash around, they know everyone who’s supposed to get it each year.”

They both know who guards it for the shrinekeepers, too. The maggies. 

Waking up after remembering… after his work with the memory bottles, Mingi knows the disorientation of being back in the here and now but with the past still loud in his ears, ringing through his body. He’s woken making those choking sounds you make in a nightmare where you need to scream and can’t, recoiling from someone else’ remembered pain, half-deafened, in tears. It always feels so real, even though the King has assured him that the memory bottles work at a distance, because it’s not your own memory you’re reliving. If it’s your own memories, it’s worse. That’s what he said.

When Yunho wakes, it’s a quieter thing altogether. They almost miss it. His eyes open, but it’s not like he’s really seeing them. He lies there, so still. There’s just the slow blink of his eyes, gazing on nothing, the slow rhythm of his breathing. 

His father leans over to stroke his hair back, and he doesn’t move. There’s no recognition, no expression. Just stillness.

”You’re home now.” His father’s voice is quiet and full of all the love in the world. “You’re alright, we’re here. Just take your time.”

It’s terrifying, seeing all that nothing in his eyes. Like he’s gone somewhere so far away Mingi can’t follow him. He hopes it’s somewhere safe, not somewhere bad. Being here must not feel very safe anymore, fuck knows, he’s got no reason to feel safe if this can happen.

Except… he wants there to be a safe place here.

It feels like the worst kind of selfishness, like he’s wishing pain on Yunho, but he wants him back, fully back. If he could go to that place and sit with him until he was ready to come back, he would. 

He puts his hand on Yunho’s and closes his fingers. Not tight, just enough to be felt. “You’re not alone, okay? We’re here. We’ve got you.”

Mingi’s new definition of faith: trusting the invisible bullshit of his aura can do what he can’t, and show Yunho it’s okay to be here again. He can’t see it and he can’t feel it, not like he can feel the place where their hands meet, Yunho’s hand still unmoving in his, with all his heart. 

When the first trace of aura-sight flickers in his eyes, Mingi closes his fingers tightly for a moment, then lets go just as hurriedly. Yunho’s fingers twitch under his. His gaze falls just above their hands, rests there a while. 

Yunho’s father squeezes Mingi’s shoulder. 

“I wish I could see it. I just wish I knew what it looked like. It must be something.”

“Warm.” Yunho’s voice is so soft, little more than a whisper. “It’s warm. It’s like flowers blooming. Red. Purple.” His fingers twitch again. “It’s not subtle.”

Mingi’s throat closes up a little. “Shiniest thing in the room.” Fucking right.

They wait until he stirs, shifting slightly on the pillows. “What happened? I was at the party...”

His father tells him what they know, which isn’t much. Yunho comes back to them, piece by piece, until he’s sitting up wrapped in blankets with a mug of apple tea. Breathing in the hot sweet-smelling steam seems to help him, and the glow of the sun charm that he’s peeled off his face and is holding in the palm of his hand like a tiny lamp. He seems tired, overwhelmingly tired, and he’s moving like his whole body hurts, but he seems… okay. Like he’s going to be okay.

When he asks Mingi to stay the night, Mingi agrees. He doesn’t want to leave, anyway. It’s not like he’s going to get much sleep, he has plans to make. It’s not like the hot anger he felt before, with the maggies. Jonghyuk’s right, he needs to use his head. Take his time. Figure this out. 

He doesn’t believe in accidents anymore, not in Hivesong.

___________________

First things first. He’s waiting for Minnie in the Wraithwild the next day, when she finishes her morning rites at the Hives. He stays well away from the bone path and the black house in the woods. It makes his whole skin itchy to be so close to the Mare and the things that live below her. He wonders if she can smell his scent from here, if that big shaggy head is lifting even now, snuffling the air.

_She’s been asking._

Minnie looks stricken the moment she catches sight of him, waiting under the ironwood trees. She throws herself at him and hugs him tight.

“I’m so sorry, Mingi, I thought he’d be safe there.”

Mingi hugs her back. “Hey, hey, hush, I’m the one who skipped out on you both.” There’s enough guilt to go around, everyone can have a big old cup of that, and still come back for a second serving. “It’s okay, he’ll be okay.”

“How’s he doing?”

He’d been quieter and more irritable than usual that morning. His limp had seemed a lot worse, even just moving around their rooms. 

“You know what he was like a few weeks after it all happened? When he wasn’t getting better quickly enough, and he was really mad about it but he felt like shit because he kept losing his temper? Yeah, that.”

Minnie winces.

“Did you find anything out about how it happened?”

“I asked Shrinekeeper Yeonhee. She was so angry, not with me asking, just that it happened. Not for Yunho’s sake, though.” There’s a look on her face like she’s bitten into something rotten. “She was mad at him that he got to drink it when he shouldn’t. Like he’d done something wrong. It’s supposed to be _special_.”

“She knows what it does, right?”

“I got a whole lecture about sacred pain. Don’t even start. She’s got this whole thing about the honour of it. Don’t let her anywhere near Yunho, she thinks he should be grateful.”

“How does she think it happened?”

“Well, his name definitely wasn’t on the King’s list, I saw it. You know who distributes it, though, right? The maggies. They go through the list and send it off with servants.”

“Can we ask the servant who gave it to him?”

“They were wearing masks, Mingi, you saw them. And I don’t know, Yunho had already had a couple of drinks by then. He wasn’t near drunk, but I doubt he was paying a lot of attention.”

“So… what, that’s it? Just one of those things?” One of those things that happens conveniently often at Hivesong. 

“I don’t know what else we can do to find out. Do you think Yunho’s going to want us to keep talking about it? Maybe we just say that’s it. It’s over.” It sounds like she’s trying to convince herself, more than him. 

But he can’t just let this lie, because it’s not over. King Jaehan has other plans for the First Nectar memories; he’s going to collect them up and bottle them. Mingi can ask the King to get rid of this one before it goes any further. It’s not useful to him. There’s nothing for him to learn, no political information for him to gain from this memory. Logically, he should be willing to just leave it alone. 

Two things, though. If it's Mingi asking, he’s likely to do the opposite just to spite him these days. And… he’s known for a while now, and what Jonghyuk said just reinforced it. The King might say he’s collecting these memories to keep the country safe from harm and to strengthen their defenses. He’s not. It’s a hobby. An exciting, addictive, sick little hobby.

The thought of him eating up Yunho’s pain and fear like it's some special kind of drug, or feeding it out to punish someone else… He needs to stay cold. Stay calm, keep his intentions hidden. But fuck, it’s not easy. 

For one long moment he thinks about stealing it back, forcing some pretext to get back into the library of pain and just pocketing it. Smuggling it back out under the eye of the Mare. Yeah. He needs to be smarter than that.

  
  
When he joins the council session that morning he’s about ready for a fight. They’ve got business to wrap up before the contractors arrive from Rope-of-Stars around noon. King Jaehan greets him as he takes a seat.

“Good to see you here today, Mingi. You’ve got a habit of avoiding us when these little dramas are playing out in your personal life.”

The pretense at surprise only barely masks an amused scrutiny, like he’s trying to see how badly Mingi is hurting today and finding it very tasty, indeed. 

So now he’s got someone to direct his urge to fight at. An unsafe target, sure. But that’s part of why he’s there, right? Fearlessness. Honesty. Stay calm, idiot. Don’t fuck it all up because you’re angry.

Jonghyuk catches his eye. It looks like he’s trying to get something across; sympathy, or maybe a warning. It’s not the usual, and he’s got no idea how to read it. He’s probably heard about Yunho, and maybe he even cares. Not enough to stick his neck out or say anything, but sure. 

He’s still piecing together all the savage words he wants to use on the King when Jonghyuk pulls him aside while they’re on a short break. 

“I heard what happened. That’s unfortunate. Yunho’s having a bad run of it.”

“A bad run.” He’s so fucking sick of the way they dress things up in this place. Yunho’s encounter. His bad run. “It’s funny how it keeps happening to him, though, right?”

Jonghyuk glances around the council room, checking on the others. “Whatever you’re saying, you might want to think about where you’re saying it.”

He has no idea what he’s saying. A conspiracy of some kind? Against Yunho? “If it really bothers you, help me find out why it’s happening. I don’t expect you to risk actually doing something about it, but help me find out what it is.” So I can stop it. Whatever the fuck it is. 

Jonghyuk steers him backwards until they’re over by the curtains, away from everyone. “Let me ask you something. If you find out, if it’s between his safety and yours, who’re you going to choose? Honestly?” He’s got his hands on Mingi’s shoulders as if he’s bracing him against something. “You remind me a whole lot of myself at your age, Mingi. Big words, fighting words, but you’re smart, under it. Tell me you wouldn’t throw away what you’ve got for someone else. Tell me there’s not an ounce of self-preservation under that righteous anger. How is he worth it? Come on, him or you?” There’s something almost angry in the way he asks it. 

“Help me find out what happened, or leave me the fuck alone.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“That’s because it’s not even a question.” _Shitclown_.

He ignores Jonghyuk for the rest of the morning’s business. Gets through their first meeting with Rope-of-Stars somehow, barely paying attention. The King calls a late lunch so that he can hash over some details of the offer with Jonghyuk, who’s clearly the most across the contract, before they come back to sign.

Mingi ends up eating with the other two councilors and their honored guests, who seem tickled by the court of Hivesong and its small-town delights. Mingi gives them just enough wide-eyed impressed face that he can see them unruffling, relaxing back into the comfort of their own snobbery. Contract details, nope. But this he can do standing on his head.

When they go back to the council rooms they’re ripe for the taking, primed to underestimate both Jonghyuk’s canniness with the law and the King’s relentless will, but Jonghyuk’s gone off to take care of other business. Without the silk glove over the royal iron fist, the last of the negotiations go a lot less smoothly. 

When they finally wind up, he’s too restless to go see Yunho straight away. His mind’s busy picking over Jonghyuk’s questions, and his no-show after lunch. It felt like he hit a nerve, asking him to help. Hit something. That response. 

He knows something. 

He knows something, and he’s just trying to decide whether to tell him or not. He was the one who found the maggies, in the first place. What if he talked to them before he turned their names over? What if there was more to know?

Jonghyuk’s rooms are just down the hall from his, and he heads over before he can talk himself out of it. He knocks at the door, but there’s no answer.

What if he’s gone? Like, _gone_ gone? Just waiting for the distraction of Rope-of-Stars before he bailed? He’s hinted to Mingi that he’s got that cushion of money to protect himself, and he was behaving so weirdly today. Disappearing mid negotiation, it’s not like him.

He knows something.

It’s that thought beating in his head, and the flighty look in Jonghyuk’s eyes that makes him swing the door open, despite the lack of a reply. He calls his name softly. Finds himself moving further into the room and closing the door behind him, because he’s what, a criminal now? Apparently.

He’s only a couple of hesitant steps in when he sees the envelope with his name on it on the table. That absolute shitclown, he _is_ gone. This is his goodbye. 

The bulky envelope is sealed with wax and fire runes. He knows enough to press his thumb against the wax so he can open it without burning up whatever’s in there. A small pouch of coins, by the weight of it, and a peek inside shows the gleam of cut gems.

There’s no written message, but Jonghyuk’s left him a hearseed. He’s seen Yunho fiddling around with them before; advanced runesmiths can catch their voices and store them in the seeds to send a message. He fits the tiny seedpod into his ear, and the whiskery tendrils twine up around his earlobe to hold it in place. And then it’s like Jonghyuk’s right there, whispering in his head. 

“Mingi, I’m sorry to drop all this on you, but I don’t plan to be around by the time you hear this. What you do with this is up to you. Me, I'd leave, but then I guess you know that by now, huh? If you really want to help your friend, use the money to get Jeong Eunha out of Hivesong, okay? Jaehan’s hellbent on what she can do with auras, that trick of keeping someone inside the memories for longer, and he’s sick of hearing no.”

There’s a pause when he wonders if Jonghyuk’s finished, but he goes on, speaking more swiftly now.

“He’s going to use Yunho to force her, he knows her kids are her weakness. Jaehan was the one who set up the thing with the maggies in the first place. With what he’s got bottled up now, he can just keep throwing Yunho back inside that memory till she’s ready to cooperate. You know what he’s like, Jaehan wants what he wants but if he can make someone hurt along with it, if it’s Eunha, if it’s you, it’s sweet, sweet icing on his cake. Yunho’s a good kid, he doesn’t deserve that shit.”

He starts to disentangle the seed and almost misses the last quiet words. 

“You’re a good kid, too. Stay safe, huh?”

He waits, but the seed’s already unwinding from his ear and when he pulls it out it shrivels and dies.

There’s a sound at the door, a soft knock, and he reacts by instinct, moving backwards into Jonghyuk’s bedroom and pulling the door to behind him. 

His heart’s lodged somewhere in his throat as he hovers behind the door. He’s going to look like an asshole if he scares the shit out of a servant, but that message… if it’s true...

It’s true. He feels it right down to his bones, way down deep where the things that scare him worst live. 

Footsteps move into the main room, more than one person, from the sounds of it. He can just make out low voices as they move around the room.

“Just take papers, clothes…. Anything that looks sellable, grab it. He was cashing up to run anyway, we can flog it off.”

It’s a male voice, nobody he recognizes, followed by the stealthy sounds of flicking through papers, rifling drawers. They’ll come in here next. He has to think. Fast, think, come on. Fuck, Mingi, think.

“Did he have any family?” The second voice is female.

“Some, but they’re Lowtown. Nobody’s gonna fuss when he doesn’t show.”

“You sure we’re okay to just take stuff?”

“Taking’s better than asking His Majesty for a pay-off. Apparently this poor shithead pushed him too far, you want us cleaning you off the floor like that? You know how much I had to scrub those council carpets?”

Mingi’s brain is a whirl of white noise and panic.

Jonghyuk’s dead. That’s what they're talking about, right? He’s dead? But he was at council this morning, before he got called away. No, not called away. Before he met with the King in private. Last time he saw him.

The King’s face, after, explaining. Called away urgently. So sorry.

Can he hide? Under the bed, behind the curtains, no, there’s nowhere. The only way out is outside and over the balcony. He backs away from the bedroom door, coin pouch held tight as he can, trying not to make a sound. Careful of his boots on the floor, thank all the gods Jonghyuk loves soft rugs. Loved. Past tense. Fuck, don’t think about that.

He freezes as he hears the voices, female voice closer now.

“Healer’s next, for the boy?”

“Yeah. Hey, don’t bother with the lockbox. Guy was a runesmith. You’re never gonna get in. Probably just gonna hurt yourself.”

“No, I got it, I got it. Hang on.”

He moves carefully, slowly, over to the balcony door. The latch is just like the one in his rooms, and it’s going to make a noise when he lifts it. A scrape of metal on metal, at least. 

Something on the lockbox detonates with a loud spark of noise and without stopping to think he lifts the latch quick as he can and pushes on the door. Then he’s out on the balcony and closing the door behind him, heart beating hard enough to explode. His hand on the latch is shaking almost enough to unlatch it again. He steps away, waiting to be found, waiting for movement. 

_Healer’s next._

He’s got to get them out.

He pockets the pouch of coins and checks the railing. Yeah, same as his balcony. At least it’s not raining, that would be tough. He can do this. He lifts himself up and over before he can scare himself out of it, balances on the outside of the railings. Thank Hivesong and all the gods - except for the Mare, she can fuck right off - that he’s tall.

The whole way down, he’s just waiting for it to go wrong. His heart’s in his mouth listening for sounds from the balcony above, and he’s sure he’s going to bring the maggies down on him with every scrape his boots make, or even the ragged sound of his breathing as he’s hanging from the railings. Or someone’s going to see him and raise an alarm.

When he finally falls the last short distance to the ground, he’s wet with sweat and his hands are scraped and bleeding. He sinks down into the greenery at the foot of the wall for a long moment, trying to get his heart under control.

Jonghyuk’s dead. Healer’s next, come on Mingi, get your shit together. He stumbles up and out of the bushes, heading for the east wing where the Jeongs live. They’re up on the second floor, and he could go through the building, but what if there’s someone watching the door? No idea how many maggies are in on this thing. Safer to climb up. 

Wouldn’t be the first time. He used to sneak out with Yunho all the time, he knows that climb. Underneath their rooms, everything is quiet in the soft glow of the garden lanterns. It’s late enough that Yunho’s little brother might be asleep, but everyone else should be up.

Okay, climb, fuck it. The first part’s always the worst, up the rickety lattice not built for holding a near full grown adult. He has one white-knuckle moment where it feels like it’s about to come away from the wall. It sways and shakes, nails squeaking, but he clings onto it hard and throws his weight towards the wall and it holds up for him. 

He hauls himself up onto the first floor balcony, feeling as shaky and wrecked as the lattice. Before he has time to let himself slow down he gets his boots up onto the railing, grabs hold of the post and hangs for a long, dizzying moment until he has the strength to pull himself up the last haul, onto the balcony outside Yunho’s room. He lies flat on the balcony for a moment, getting his breath back.

Then he drags himself to his feet and pats at the door to Yunho’s room, open palm on the glass, calling his name. Please be there, sweet fucking gods, please. The curtain twitches aside and he sinks against the cold glass in relief to see that confused, cranky face staring out at him.

“Yunho.” It’s little more than a breath, a prayer. “Let me in, please, hurry.”

He unlatches the door and Mingi stumbles in. Yunho grabs his arm and helps hold him up. 

“Hey, what’s up, what is it?”

“You need to get your parents.” He braces his hands on his thighs, focuses on getting his breathing under control. “Now.”

Yunho watches him for a moment, then goes to fetch his parents, quick as he can move with the healing leg. Oh hells, that’s going to be a problem. He’s not going to be able to get out the way Mingi came in, over the balcony.

When the Jeongs join them, he explains as fast and as clearly as he can, even though it feels like his brain’s in about a million scattered pieces. Jonghyuk’s been killed, and the King’s after Yunho’s mother for her ability to work with auras and hold people inside memories. 

He doesn’t look at Yunho; never in a million years is he going to let him know he’s the weak link, he’s the stress point everyone’s leaning on. Just that the maggies are coming tonight, now, and they have to get out. 

He presses the bag of coins and jewels into Yunho’s mother’s hands, pleads with them with all the urgency left in his body. “You’ve got to go, now. Just get everyone and go.”

And they know Hivesong. By now, they know it so well that there’s no surprise in their faces, not really. Yunho’s father goes to wake up his little brother and carry him, drowsy and complaining against his chest.

“They could have someone watching the door,” Mingi says. “I don’t know how many maggies are a part of this.”

“We’re going to have to chance it,” Yunho’s mother says, with a glance at her husband.

He nods, pops open the door, checks the hall. “Can’t see anyone. Let’s go, now.”

They take the stairs as fast as they can, Yunho leaning hard on Mingi to keep the sound of the crutches hitting the stairs from alerting anyone. Somehow they make it downstairs, to the wing’s wide entrance hall. 

There are always a couple of guards here at night, and they slow as they get near, wide-eyed and ragged looking. But the maggies on guard mustn’t be in the King’s pay, because they let them by - they just let them by. Yunho’s still leaning on Mingi and he feels his whole body shaking as they pass under the maggies’ watchful eyes.

The path down to the lake is like a slow-motion nightmare. The crunching of shells underfoot sounds so loud, and Mingi keeps hold of Yunho as he loses his balance over and over on the slippery, sloping ground. Yunho’s brother's sleepy protests are only partly muffled by his father’s whispered answers. Mingi keeps waiting for the yelling to start behind them, for the sound of footsteps heading their way. His whole back is tensed up with the fear of what’s behind them, about to descend on them at any minute.

Somehow they get down the path to the beach. Yunho’s mother is already reaching into the pouch, searching out someone willing to take them over to Lowtown this late. There are only a couple of sleepy ferrymen on duty tonight, and the flash of coin is enough to wake one of them up.

The ferryman helps them load Yunho’s brother into the stern, bundling him up in a wool blanket alongside Yunho’s father. His mother stops to talk to the ferryman, probably trying to buy them a couple of hours’ silence and lead time from pursuit.

Mingi looks at Yunho, leaning on him still, and realises. Heart in mouth. This is it.

Oh gods.

He’s not ready. But he needs him gone and safe more than he’s ever needed anything.

“What are you doing?” All Yunho’s registered is that Mingi has stopped moving. “Get in the boat.”

Mingi braces himself. “You have to go now, before they find you.”

“I’m not leaving you here, you have to come too, what are you talking about?”

“I can’t. Yunho, I can’t.” Even saying his name nearly makes Mingi break. And that’s before he sees the look on Yunho’s face when he realises for the first time that Mingi’s not coming with them.

“What do you mean, why can’t you?”

If Mingi goes with them, there’s no way the King’s going to let them all escape, not if he can drag them back and make them suffer. If Mingi stays, there’s a chance he can keep the maggies off their tails somehow. Give the King more to worry about than this one small family on the run. But he’s got to swallow down his real reasons for staying, or he’s going to wake up the guard dog in Yunho, and he’s never going to leave.

He forces the words out. “I’m on the council. I’ve got responsibilities here. I need to stay.”

Yunho‘s answer is swift and scornful. “Jonghyuk’s dead, Mingi! That makes no sense, and you know it. At least give me a reason I can understand!”

“This is just where I need to be!” That, at least, has the cold, ugly weight of the truth behind it. If he leaves, they’re all dead. He’s sure of it. “Please, fuck, _Yunho_. You have to go, please, you’re out of time, just go.”

Even in the dark, he can see, he can _feel_ the moment when Yunho realises he’s not going to get the answer he wants. Mingi sure as shit can’t see auras but he can see the emotion shear through him, like it’s cut the strings of everything holding him in one piece.

He can feel it, too, when Yunho finds a way to pull himself back together enough to leave, because he doesn’t have time to change Mingi’s mind.

_For someone who smiles so damn much, there’s a lot of steel in him._

He gets one last hug, rapid, so fierce and sweet and _oh_ it’s going to have to last him from now on in. A swift kiss on his cheek, there and gone.

He hears Yunho’s voice, low in his ear. “I don’t know why you’re doing this, why you’re staying, I just get that you think you have to. But people are dying here. If anything happens to you...” he stops, and his head presses against Mingi’s for a moment. “I’m coming back for him. Okay? So you have to be smart. You have to be so smart now, Mingi.” The guard dog’s awake; always has been. It’s just that he’s got a family to protect, too.

“Yunho!” His father’s voice is as loud a call as he dares.

Yunho starts to walk backwards towards the boat, despite the limp that gets worse on the uneven shingle, still holding his eyes. “And if you ever need me -” there’s a break in his voice, but he keeps going, “you come find me, okay?”

I need you _now._

_Don’t go._

_I love you._

But he just nods and raises a hand in a wave, can’t trust his voice anymore. Yunho’s mother helps him climb into the boat, and they cast off, the ferryman rowing them out onto the lake with a rhythmic splash of oars.

There’s no last minute pursuit. Nobody comes to stop them. As long as they can make it to Lowtown, they’ve got enough coins to buy their way on to another court, and safety. Safety for now, anyway. His whole body slumps with relief, till he’s sitting on the shingle with his arms around his knees.

He stays on the beach, watching the boat until it’s just one more dark shape moving against the darkness of the lake.

If he’s honest with himself though, it’s a small world and the King has a long reach.

There’s really only one way to be sure he can keep Yunho safe. What was it the King said, before he executed the maggies? There’s only one way to make sure.

Before the sun comes up, before the maggies can pay him a visit to ask about the escape, Mingi goes to talk to the Swarm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow folks, thanks if you made it this far!!! I’d really love to hear what you thought - your comments will help give me the encouragement to keep going with this!!! I have some plans already for all-gloves-off mingi vs the king in the next story, ‘get ready for a new day’! and remember you can always jump straight to mingi and yunho’s eventual reunion in ‘wrap around me’!
> 
> ALSO YUNHO SECOND MALE LEAD ACTOR IN 2021 HOW GREAT IS THAT ✨


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